Ennui de Famille
by Nightscrawlearth
Summary: He didn’t want to be here – in this place of death. AU. Gambit for Scrawlerearth. By Fourpawsonthefloor.
1. Chapter 1

He stood on the street corner, crouched as far under the slight overhang of a building as he could. The rain kept pouring down in a steady soaking drizzle that was chilling despite the still cloying warmth of the air that surrounded him.

The weather suited his mood.

He had been numb since Xavier had given him the message. To be honest, he didn't know what to make of it. Should he feel bad? Sad? Relieved? He didn't really know. All that he could pick out of his emotions right now is that he was uncomfortable as hell with the situation. His life had been too fraught with change lately…he'd gotten soft. Before he'd joined the school he could roll with the punches, but since he had that sense of normalcy in his life, he had found it harder to adjust back to the 'take each day as it comes' routine.

The time that his Maman had asked to meet him here had long come and gone. He wondered how long he should stand here, making an ass out of himself. What if she didn't show up? It wouldn't surprise him at all. Maman had never been the most reliable, and who knew what she was taking at the moment. For all he knew she could be passed out behind some dumpster.

Yet…this was the only information that she had left for him. He had no other way of knowing where or how to reach her. Of knowing where or when his father's funeral was. And as much as the whole thing unsettled him, he felt a sense of responsibility to at least attend it and settle any of his father's affairs. He snorted. Why he should care, he didn't know – but it was what it was.

He sighed, shifting on his feet again, watching rainwater drip off his long bangs that he'd let droop down so that they half obscured his face. A few people gave him odd looks because of the dark sunglasses he was wearing in the rain – but at least not as overt as the stares he got for wearing them at midnight.

What was he supposed to feel anyway? He'd known that his parents were not in the best state since he had seen them during Mardi Gras so it really shouldn't have been such a shock to hear that his Pere had died – but yet, it had been. The trouble was he wasn't quite sure if the majority of his shock had come from the fact that his Pere had died or that his Maman had bothered to tell him at all about it.

A figure finally caught his attention. Even through the thick curtain of rain the way the woman was walking drew the eye – unsteady, swaying erratically as she walked up the sidewalk. People skirted her in a wide berth, her presence making a path like the prow of a ship cutting through water. He closed his eyes and muttered a brief curse. Well at least she'd shown up. He walked to meet her, stopping short to watch her as she covered the last few feet.

"Bonjour Maman."

In the couple of months since he'd seen her last, her appearance had gotten shockingly worse. She was beyond haggard looking – she could easily pass for a woman in her 60's rather than a woman in her 40's. Her eyes were deeply sunken into her skull, the smudges under them so dark that they looked like bruises. Tattered clothes hung off of her in a filthy and sodden mess. He grimaced with distaste when he noticed the open sores on her arms that followed a path up her veins.

"Remy. Y' came den." She sounded completely uninterested in that fact – her voice flat and lifeless.

"Oui." He looked at her, unsure as to where they were supposed to go from here. "Maman, when is the funeral?"

She looked at him for a moment as if he'd spoken to her in some random foreign dialect before some semblance of awareness reached her eyes.

"Tommorah."

He nodded, relieved that there wouldn't be much of a wait. It was good that he'd be able to get this done and over with – the quicker the better. He loved his city, but this was the last situation in the world he wanted to deal with.

He watched her sway unsteadily on her feet while she simply stood there in front of him he realized that she was waiting for him to do something. Take control.

"Where y' stayin'? Where's y're things?"

"Lost d' place where we were stayin' when y're Pere died. Only got what I've got on me."

As he turned his gaze back to her face he noticed that the water running down her dirt grimed face wasn't all rain. He swallowed hard, very uncomfortable with the realization that tears and even a thin line of snot were also cutting their own paths through the mess.

Dieu. Give him the strength. It was just a day or two at most.

He took off his coat, dropping over her thin shaking shoulders. "C' mon Maman. Let's get y' somethin' t' eat an' a hotel room, neh?"

Looking up at him she blinked the tears from her eyes, touching his cheek tenderly. "Y're a good boy, Remy."

He just stood and kept looking down for a moment at her before turning wordlessly to lead the way; letting her follow in his footsteps as she would.

**************

The rain hadn't let up by the next day. He supposed that in a way it was better than the sun beating down on them, as much as he missed it - the rain suited the somberness. However, it had pretty much undone all the effort he'd gone into trying to get his mother somewhat presentable. He'd shown up at the hotel room that he pre-paid for her for a week, with a few new clothes and shoes for her. Even with the clean clothes and a freshly bathed body she still looked completely disreputable, barely better looking than a corpse herself. Left unprotected from the rain, her clothes were now all plastered down on her too thin frame, making her look like a drowned cat.

He cursed his lack of foresight in bringing an umbrella. He was willing to bet that even he looked a right mess by now. Some way of paying respect to the dead.

They'd taken a streetcar for most of the way, forced to walk the remainder of the distance. Remy felt a sense of foreboding when the graveyard finally came into view. This wasn't what he'd expected. The lawns and small gardens were immaculately kept – the mausoleums large and well adorned. This was a place where people with means were interred in style, not the standard public crowded yard with its crumbling pavement and graffiti that he'd expected.

What had his mother been thinking when she arranged all this? He snorted wryly, supposing that it depended if she was even thinking in the first place. He'd figured that she'd need him to pay for the costs of the funeral – but this was bordering on the ridiculous. He didn't have this kind of money to hand. He supposed that he should be thankful that at least she hadn't gone for the full 'jazz funeral' if she'd been crazy enough to arrange a funeral here.

His mother seemed to know exactly where she was going for once, leading him up the gravel path till they came to the top of a small hill. A man – some sort of priest he supposed, noticing the collar at his throat – stood by at the head of a plain black coffin. It was another surprise – coffins were rare here, the heat usually dealing with a person's body within a few months if placed directly in the mausoleum. Coffins were only used by the elite – in private mausoleums.

He didn't expect the raw surge of emotion that ran through him at seeing it. Not…grief really. Shuddering, he repressed a retch. He didn't want to be here – in this place of death. Left staring at a box that contained his father's dead body.

His mother stepped up unerringly to the foot of the coffin, stroking the smooth surface of it once, before backing off a few feet. At a loss of what else to do Remy joined her, standing with his eyes on his feet to avoid looking at the scene in front of him, focusing his mind instead on the thin trickles of water that ran down his neck.

Moments passed and he looked up at the priest questioningly. He realized that they were a bit early, he having bundled his mother out the door hastily this morning, thinking that it was the least he could do to get her to his Pere's funeral on time. He couldn't help but wonder why the man wasn't just starting, seeming as they were here. Did he just want to stand in the rain all day or was this some weird rule that mandated it start at the specified hour?

He realized then that the priest wasn't really looking at them, but rather beyond and down the path that they had come up. Remy glanced discretely over his shoulder hoping that there wouldn't be musicians or fuss after all. To his relief, it was just a few people; all dressed in the dark clothes of mourning, walking sedately up the walkway together. He looked in to see if there were other services that he hadn't originally noticed, but the graveyard was empty but for them.

The trio of new comers silently walked up to stand to the right of the priest – keeping a little back from the gravesite. An older man stood to the front of the group – the two younger people standing close together, the man's arm draped around the woman's waist. All three were very well dressed – good tailoring and fine cloth announcing their worth. His mouth crooked into a wry twist as he watched them. At least they had remembered umbrellas and so weren't looking half drowned as he and his Maman were.

The young woman was very pretty – somewhere in her early thirty's he figured. Her blonde hair was pulled neatly back in a twist, a simple black hat perched on top of it. The man in the sharp looking dark grey suit beside her was obviously a husband or lover with the way that he leaned into her, the two of them seeming to lend each other support. He was completely bald – probably shaven rather than natural given his age. It contrasted with the generous moustache that adorned his lip – the tails of it trailing down the side of each lip.

It was the older man that stood to the fore of them was the one that drew his attention the most. He was dressed in a similar suit to the younger man, looking a bit eccentric with his long dark hair pulled back in a tight braid, grey just starting to appear at his temples. He too had a moustache – but small and neatly trimmed with an accompanying 'soul patch' under his lower lip. The man looked genuinely pained, his face haggard with grief and other unidentifiable emotions. The other two were somber – but grief didn't touch their eyes like it did him.

He watched them all covertly from behind his glasses as the priest evidently took their appearance as a sign to begin. Who were these people? Why the hell were they here? He wondered momentarily if they people that his father owed debts to, come to ensure that they were paid, but if so then why the hell did the man look so sad?

Remy eventually tore his attention from them, concentrating on the priest as he performed the brief ceremony. The blackness of the opened mausoleum that stood ready to receive the coffin made his neck crawl. It was all too much. He felt restricted, his breaths forced past a throat cased in a collar that was suddenly too tight. He sighed in audible relief as the priest finished, his mother tottering up unsteadily to press a final touch of farewell to the casket.

The strangers were talking quietly amongst themselves now that the priest was done – darting small looks towards his mother and him. Remy attempted to ignore them, hoping that whatever they wanted could wait until later. His mother turned away from the coffin finally, seeming to catch the eyes of the older man briefly before reaching for his arm, clinging to it as she tugged on him, heading down the path. He followed her quite willingly – eager to depart from the whole unpleasant scene.

"Who is that with Rose?" he caught the slight movement out of the corner of his eye as his daughter-in-law leaned close to her husband and whispered it so it wouldn't carry.

"Dunno…Papa?"

In response he just shrugged and continued to watch the tall youth that stood by Rose's side – not quite touching, but close enough to show some bit of familiarity between the two of them. The boy looked solemn, but held himself stiffly, as if keeping himself separate from the grief surrounding him. With the large dark glasses hiding his eyes it was hard to tell. They could be covering any range of emotions.

Suspicions were tumbling madly through his head though as he watched Rose and the youth. While he couldn't be certain without asking, he had a feeling in his gut that he did know exactly who this young man was. The resemblance was just too uncanny.

But that meant that all these years…what Bastien and Rose had told him – it was all untrue. He felt slightly ill. Dieu – why had they done it? And then what had he ignored all these years?

Then Rose and the boy were turning to leave and he felt his only chance to know the truth slipping away.

"Here…hold dis." He thrust the umbrella into his son's hands, ignoring the startled look he got in return, and hurried down towards the two retreating figures.

**************************

The crunch of shoes on gravel alerted him moments before the voice came.

"Rose."

His mother stumbled briefly, before catching her feet, walking on as if she hadn't heard the man. Remy glanced back, noticing that the older man was the one that had chosen to follow them. He'd left his umbrella behind, his leather shoes slipping slightly on the wet gravel. The shoulders of his coat were quickly growing darker with the rain, and the drops were beading like dew in his facial hair. It was odd the things that you noticed.

"Rose. Arret. Sil vous plait."

His mother stopped, but kept her gaze averted as the man strode up to them. Remy frowned. Up to him to deal with it he supposed.

"Monsieur, now is not d' best time. Perhaps we can arrange a meetin' t' discuss any…arrangements later, neh?" Remy stopped as he realized that the man was watching him with an odd intensity that made him uneasy. This had to be the weirdest collections man he'd ever met.

The man didn't respond to him, speaking to his mother instead. "My sympathies t' y' Rose. He was a…" the words trailed and ended awkwardly as an odd look crossed the man's face. Remy could sympathize. What could you really say about his Pere? The man kept darting odd looks towards him the entire time though, which made him fidget with nerves, fingers flipping a card over and over in the depths of his pocket.

"Rose…" The man cleared his throat. "Rose…is dis who I think it is?" The inquiry was barely phrased as one, the tone of the words coming more as a statement than a true question. It was weird having this stranger refer to him as if he knew him. His Mere had spoken to people of him?

His mother continued to refuse to meet the man's eyes, but nodded in answer, her shoulders tiredly slumping forward.

Despite the confident way that the man had approached the conversation, as if he already held the answers in his hand; he still managed to look credibly shocked at the response, his face paling momentarily. The man stood wordless, his eyes fully examining his Maman's sickly looking face before he frowned deeply at her.

"But why Rose? Why did y' an' Bastien lie t' me all dese years?" The man's voice cracked slightly on the last words, and he found himself taking a step back from the strange man, inadvertently tugging his mother along with him like a child's play thing on a string.

"Would someone please tell Remy what d' hell y'all are talkin' about?" He watched the man warily, lips pressed tightly together.

When his mother said nothing, the man shifted on his feet and looked back at him. "My name is Jean Luc LeBeau. It would appear dat I'm y're uncle."


	2. Chapter 2

He felt the blood drain from his face, and stood staring at the man mutely for a minute. Uncle? There'd never been so much as a hint before this that he'd had any other family than his Mere and Pere. And now…an uncle? It was surreal. He shook himself out of the daze to try and focus on what the man was saying.

"… why Rose? Why did y' lie t' me? I would have helped y' both as much as y' needed – y' knew dat." The man – Jean-Luc he reminded himself – looked pained. "Would have helped y' with whatever y' needed. Sent him t' d' best schools…all of dat. Why didn't y' just tell me?"

Remy felt his face flush at that; blood returning to his cheeks in a sudden surge. He knew why his parents had kept him hidden. One glance is all it took for him to figure it out. This man wasn't the same as them - the fine suit, the gold gem studded cufflinks, the thick ring on one finger all proclaimed the man's status clearly. Like a well to do family like that would have wanted anything to do with the likes of them – or him, some freak kid. His Mere was huddled in on herself, shivering, muttering some barely intelligible words under her breath at Jean-Luc.

Clenching his jaw he drug off his glasses, fixing Jean-Luc with a glare. "Dat's why. So just leave it be, comprehends?"

*************

Jean-Luc couldn't help gaping for a moment as his nephew stared at him from the oddest eyes that he'd ever seen. They were red on black, the red irises flaring brighter in anger like a blown on piece of coal. Devil eyes. He'd not felt this utterly out of his depth in years – what was he supposed to say?

The young man just crammed his glasses back on his face and turned to walk down the path, holding Rose firmly but gently by her arm as he drug her after him.

"Wait, sil vous plait…Remy is it?"

He watched as the auburn haired man stopped again, noticing the way his jaw was clenched as he reluctantly turned back to face him. They spent a moment just letting the rain poured down over them as they watched each other. Just when he was convinced that the young man wasn't going to answer him, he took a deep breath, nodding slightly.

"Oui. It's Remy."

Jean-Luc smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring, walking carefully back up to Rose and the boy, as Remy looked ready to bolt at the nearest opportunity. His nephew held a tight sense of distrust and anger around him, and Jean-Luc worried as to why that was the boy's gut reaction to him. What had Rose and Bastien told the boy about him?

He offered his hand to Remy to shake, who hesitated only for a minute before clasping it briefly in his own, only to let go and stand silently again, waiting. Rose clung to his one arm like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Dieu. What does a man say to his nephew that he'd thought dead at birth?

********************

Remy dropped the man's hand as quickly as he could, unsure as to what to say next to him. What did he want? A sudden thought sprung to mind.

"Did y' pay for dis? D' funeral?" He couldn't imagine how his Mere would have been able to even be allowed to walk through the front door of a place that was ritzy enough to service this graveyard, never mind come up with the money for a deposit.

"Oui." Jean-Luc looked bewildered at the turn of conversation. "He was my brother."

"Remy'll pay y' back as soon as he can."

Evidently that had stumped the older man yet again, as he opened his mouth momentarily and shut it, a slight frown puckering his brow.

"Non. It's my place t' pay for it." The words were firm and no nonsense. A sudden smile teased at the corner of his mouth.

Remy blinked, glad for the dark glasses that he knew helped him keep a poker face. The man – his uncle, he reminded himself again, was studying him thoroughly again.

"Y' look just like I did at dat age. It's like lookin' in a mirror."

Remy thought on the words, taking a moment to study the man in return. There were many points that he could see now that they'd been pointed out – the same chin, brow and nose. But it was more in the way that they both carried themselves. He supposed that the resemblance was fairly strong, though he'd never thought about comparing himself to another person like that.

Yet. What did that matter? What did the man want from him?

Jean-Luc looked back over his shoulder up at his companions still on the hill who were watching the whole scene intently, but were more than likely too far away to hear most of it.

"Remy, dat's y're cousin Henri…an' his wife Mercy." He smiled encouragingly. "Why don't y' come up an' meet dem?"

He just shook his head quickly, making to step away. "Got t' get Maman back t' d' hotel. She's soaked through." As he was – but like a few more minutes would make any difference. He just found that he was suddenly terrified with the thought of it all – the pressures of trying to meet expectations and failing.

****************

"Remy." Jean-Luc saw that the boy was ready to slip away on him. He was desperate not to lose this chance. "Wait - is dere a way dat we could meet y' for dinner or somethin'? Once y' get a chance t' get changed an' all dat is." He noticed the way that the boy's gaze turned again to the people up on the hill, and realized that the boy may feel overwhelmed, faced with a whole bunch of relatives.

"Or just me. We can talk. I'd really like t' get a chance t' talk with y'…for just a bit."

Remy turned back to him and shrugged. "Remy'll see. Depends. Got stuff t' do, an' not in N'awleans for long."

Jean-Luc was careful to keep his face pleasantly neutral. The odd manner that Remy had of speaking – referring to himself as if he weren't even present concerned him. Was it just a 'hip' way of talking? He was concerned about what the boy's life must have been like growing up, despite the confident air that he held wrapped around him.

He'd seen enough of Rose and Bastien over the years to know that there was no way they could have offered a child a normal upbringing. He slipped a card out his pocket, passing it to the troubled young man.

"Sil vous plait. Call anytime."

************************

The ride back with his Maman on the streetcar had been spent in silence. He had a million questions to ask – and yet he didn't want to hear the answers to any of them.

He walked her to her room, opening the door for her and standing to the side to let her in. Waiting till she was clear of the door, he started to swing it shut before her hand on his stopped him. He looked up at her questioningly.

"Y' should call him Remy."

He dropped his face into neutrality. "Got a lot of things t' do."

"Non." She looked at him, actually meeting his eyes for the first time since he'd met up with her on the corner. "Y' need t' call him. Jean-Luc's a good man. Y' two should know each other."

He shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the conversation, but he nodded in the hopes that she'd take it as agreement, and leave him alone.

"I'm sorry, Remy." His gaze snapped back up to her face in surprise. "We should have done things different. But nothin' t' do about that now. Just – y' call y're uncle. Y' hear me?"

"Oui, Maman."

***********************

Despite the fact that he had agreed to do it, it took him a long time to call. He delayed as much as possible, lingering through the dinner hour in the shower. It was nearly 9:00 pm by the time he finally picked up the phone and dialed the number displayed on the stylish black embossed card, half hoping it was too late, or that his uncle wouldn't be home and the decision would be taken out of his hands.

He listened to the phone ring on the other end, his stomach clenching as he heard a somewhat familiar voice answer it.

"Allo?"

"It's...Remy." he twisted the dirty off-white cord of the phone around one finger, sweat slicking his hand and making the cord slip easily against his skin.

A gusty sigh of relief made the phone crackle funnily in his ear. "I'm so glad y' called Remy. Was thinkin' dat y' weren't going t'."

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Maman told me too."

"Well, I'm glad she did." A brief pause; he felt the awkwardness between the two of them. "So den…can we meet somewhere? Have y' eaten?"

"Non…"

"Well den, where are y'? We could meet somewhere nearby, or I could pick y' up."

Remy thought quickly, trying to pick a restaurant that was middle of the road…not somewhere that he wouldn't be welcome, but not somewhere where his uncle would feel like he was slumming. "Could meet y' at Mulate's…it's not far from here."

"Dat sound's bein…in thirty minutes den?"

He agreed and said goodbye, replacing the phone onto its cradle, untwisting the cord from his finger. His fingertip had gone purple he'd had it wrapped so tightly – he hadn't even noticed.

Ah well…best to get it over with. He threw on his coat and left.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd managed to beat him there, unsure at first if he was going to be stood up - smiling with relief as the lanky youngster entered the room, wearing a long overcoat, his dark glasses pushed high up on his nose.

Waving Remy over to join him at the gaily red and white checked table he'd been seated at, he smiled encouragingly at his nephew. His nephew. Dieu; it felt good yet odd at the same time to think of the boy that way. It had been just him and Henri, and eventually Mercy for so long – Bastien hadn't been around except to ask for more money. They had no other living relatives. Well, they thought that they had none - until today.

Remy eased himself into the chair across from him, smiling a bit nervously at him before looking quickly down at the menu.

There was a live band that evening, and while it made it a bit harder to hear each other, Jean-Luc was glad for the additional cover of privacy that it would lend to their conversation.

"So…y're stayin' at a hotel? Did y' move away from N'awleans?"

Remy looked up at him and closed his menu. "Oui. Jus' got back yesterday. Caught d' first flight could get."

Jean-luc ordered a coffee for himself, which Remy seconded. "So how long has it been since y' was here den?"

"Left in August, though came here for a day on Mardi Gras. Been up in N' York…at a school."

That was a pleasant surprise. It sounded like Remy was doing quite well for himself then. He'd been afraid that Remy would have been forced into the vagrancy that his parents had been living in. He'd tried to help them straighten out, but no matter what he did, they just ended up back in the same old patterns. Remy didn't appear to be anything like his parents though, really. He was cleanly dressed, if not overly stylishly. He looked well groomed, and he didn't have that air of desperation he'd come to associate with his brother and his wife.

"Dat's wonderful, y' like it dere?"

"School's been complicated." Remy looked somewhat uneasy for a moment before he smiled a surprisingly wide grin, a hint of mischief in it. "It's more d' company dan anything dat Remy likes."

Jean-Luc laughed. So it seemed his nephew was a bit of a charmer. He felt relieved…it looked like he'd been more worried than he needed to be. Granted – growing up with his parents the way that they were couldn't have been that easy – but the boy seemed to be doing well. It was good.

********************

Remy lost track of how long they'd lingered over the gumbo and coffee. It was kind of fun, he realized, relaxing in here eating good food and listening to the jazz being belted out in the corner of the restaurant. His uncle actually seemed pretty cool. He'd asked some questions about the school, what the courses were like, and how he was finding it up in the north. Those questions had left him in a cold sweat - he'd not wanted to tell his uncle about all of the mess surrounding that situation at the moment - but thankfully his uncle didn't pry into things that he showed unease about.

He'd even spoken a bit about Talia, leaving out little things like her tail or the fact that she was blue, just as he'd not mentioned the entire staff and student body of the school were made up of mutants. He didn't even know if his uncle had a concept of mutation, beyond the brief glance he'd gotten of his eyes. While he wasn't ashamed of Talia at all, he certainly didn't need to be bringing her or any of that up in a conversation in the middle of a crowded restaurant with a relative that he wasn't even aware that he had until a few hours ago.

In return his uncle had told him more about Henri and Mercy, and had even shared a few short bittersweet but amusing stories of his father as a young boy. It was starting to get late though, and the crowd was thinning. Finishing the last of his coffee, Remy reached for the bill on the table only to have his hand slapped away.

"Will y' stop dat? First time I meet my nephew an' he won't even let me buy him dinner?"

He grinned back at his uncle and shrugged. He watched as Jean-Luc pulled out a few bills and tapped them on the table, seemingly reluctant to lay them on the bill as payment and thereby end the evening.

"Remy…is dere anyway dat y'd consider maybe comin' an' stayin' with me for a day or two? Y' could meet y're cousins and all dat."

The question was unexpected. "Y' want me t' come an' sleep dere?"

"If y're willin', oui. Not much time t' get t' know y' before y' go back to y're fancy school…an' I'd like t' get a chance to. After all, we're family, neh?"

Family. Such a loaded word. His brow must have furrowed because his uncle rushed to reassure him.

"If y' don't like it, y're welcome t' leave anytime. Will drive y' back t' de hotel an' everythin'. Y' don't even need t' cancel y're room if y' don't want."

Remy watched the man in front of him for a minute, while he thought on it. On one hand he wanted to refuse straight off – keep things uncomplicated and return to Talia as soon as he could. She had been anxious as hell when he told her that he had to leave. But that bright lingering promise of what could just be something teased at him. Hope. He couldn't believe he was about to agree to this.

"Oui. Remy'll come."

******************

Jean-Luc was delighted. He had been so certain for a moment that Remy would refuse the offer. The chance to get to know this young man – this son of his brother – was like a gift. It was unfortunate that it had taken him this long to find out about him.

He led the way out of the restaurant, chatting about trivial things, trying to keep his excitement in bay, not wanting to make the skittish youth feel pressured or awkward. His driver, Theoren, was attentive as usual – springing out of the car to skirt around it, preparing to open the door for him.

Remy's hand suddenly shot out, grasping his upper arm and holding him back as his other hand slipped something out of his overcoat's pocket.

"Remy?" Theoren had stopped at the sudden movement from Remy, hand on the door handle, looking questioningly at the two of them. Jean-Luc looked at the tense body of his nephew, finally realizing that Remy had been concerned that the man had been some sort of threat. It made him sigh again, realizing that he was definitely a suspicious young man.

"Remy, dat's Theoren. He's my chauffeur."

The darkness of the night didn't quite cover the sudden flush of embarrassment on Remy's cheeks as he released his arm and tucked the item back into the pocket. Jean-Luc barely saw a flash of it as he did so. He wasn't sure whether to be relived it wasn't the knife he had half expected or if he should be monumentally confused. A playing card?

Theoren opened the door to his black Mercedes, and he ushered Remy in before taking the seat beside him.

"We'll be stopping off t' pick up my nephew's bags before returning home, Theoren." He looked at Remy inquiringly. "So where is d' hotel?"

Remy muttered out the brief directions to the driver, and crammed himself into the far corner of the car, looking embarrassed and unsure of himself. No doubt a little shocked at the luxury of it, Jean-Luc guessed. It must be a shock to bury your financially destitute Papa and find out that you have a wealthy uncle that you didn't know of all in one day. Those were questions that he wasn't looking forward to answering, harboring his own guilt over the whole matter. Which was increased triple fold now looking at his nephew.

In a matter of moments, they arrived at the clean but older hotel. He waited for a surprisingly short amount of time before Remy reappeared – a simple duffle bag in hand.  
Remy looked like he was deep in thought, worrying his lip between his teeth as he released the bag to Theoden and reclaimed the seat beside him.

"Is dere something wrong?" Remy turned to him as if surprised that he'd asked, and shrugged his shoulders at him again.

"Went t' tell Maman dat Remy was goin' with y'…but she wasn't dere."

"Oh? Did she just not answer d' door? Maybe she was havin' a bath or somethin'?"

"Non." Remy's mouth twisted funnily before he quickly smoothed it into what Jean-Luc was quickly realizing was a mask. The boy would be a natural at poker. "Checked t' make sure. All her stuff was gone."

"I see." Jean-Luc didn't know what else to offer, but Remy didn't seem to expect anything, as they pulled away from the hotel.

*******************

He traced the stitching along the fine leather of the seat with his fingers as he thought, watching out the window at the blur of lights, glad that his uncle wasn't asking him awkward questions. He was still embarrassed that he'd over reacted – acting like some dumb bumpkin. He'd realized from the clothes and jewelry that his new found relatives had money, but he hadn't realized quite how much money they had. A car like this? With a driver?

He'd been mortified at his mistake. It was a dumb one to make. What kind of mugger jumps out of a nice car, wearing a suit? He knew that he'd been more suspicious and jumpy since all the stuff with Jono went down, but there were limits.

More pressing at the moment was the bewilderment at finding his mother gone. He'd paid up front for a week – and had told her that. He was glad his uncle didn't prod into exactly how he'd 'checked'. The lock had only taken a moment to pick, but he'd been concerned that she'd taken too much of something or God only knew what. But all traces of her had been gone, except for a few empty food wrappers on the bed.

He didn't know what to make of that – but in a way it he was grateful. What would have he said to her? How would he have just said goodbye and gone on his way again, knowing that without his father she was even more vulnerable on the streets? But yet, how was he supposed to save her from that? He supposed that's why she'd left like she had – saving them the awkwardness. Maman never did like confrontations.

The further that they drove the larger and nicer the houses were getting. He snorted as he recognized a few from his old days. He hoped his uncle wasn't friends with any of the people he'd lifted small valuables off of. It was a classy old neighborhood – the houses all in the ornate, sprawling style of a bygone era.

The car slowed, turning to passing through some ornate iron gates, taking them up a long drive. Remy blinked at the large house at the end of the lane. It was a stunning old plantation style home. And he recognized it. His heart began to pound, sweat pricking at the back of his neck.

Oh Dieu.

His uncle didn't seem to notice, happily chatting about the history of the place as his driver opened the door for them and fetched his duffel bag from the trunk. He reached for it, but the man just carried it off and up the stairs as his uncle beckoned him on.

He stepped through the large doorway, eyes scanning the large entryway that was tastefully decorated with dark wooden furniture, and other priceless antiques. Remy idly wondered exactly when he was going to wake up. The problem was, he couldn't decide if this was a dream or a nightmare.

The blonde that he'd seen at the funeral chose that moment to appear at the top of the staircase. "Papa!" she descended the stairs, looking regal even just in the casual jeans and shirt that she was in. She walked up to Jean-Luc and kissed him on the cheek, turning her dazzling smile to Remy. "I see you have brought us company." Looking back at the stair case over her shoulder she leaned to the side a bit as if she were trying to see around a corner.

"Henri!" Her shout caught Remy off guard. It wasn't as if she bellowed, but it was just more volume than he expected out of her.

In a moment the bald headed man's face appeared above the railing in the direction that she'd been looking. "Oui? Oh! Pardonez moi." He swiftly descended the stairs, one arm looping around his wife's waist even as he held his hand out in greeting.

As he shook it, he caught a glance of Jean-Luc smiling broadly at the two of them. "Remy, dis is y're cousin Henri. An' his lovely wife…" his uncle chuckled at the look the blonde slid him. "…Mercy."

"Bonjour." He wished that the floor would just come swallow him up. What the hell could he offer these people? Shoving it all down, he hid it underneath the layer of charm that he struggled to maintain. Releasing his cousin's hand he captured Mercy's and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it, smiling at the way she laughed at him.

"You're going to have to watch this one, Henri." She gave her husband an affectionate squeeze and looked back towards Jean-Luc. "Do you want me to make sure that a room is ready?"

"Oui, make it the one at the end of d' right wing, sil vous plait."

She nodded and headed off, leaving Remy to face the two men.

"Would y' like somethin' t' drink while we wait?" Remy nodded in silent answer and followed his uncle and cousin through a labyrinth of doors until they came to a sitting room. His uncle crossed the room to a cabinet, even as he waved Remy towards an armchair. Looking around, Remy could see that all the furnishings were quite as fine as they were at Xavier's. He was suddenly grateful that he'd had the opportunity to become used to living in such wealth, even with all the problems that he'd had at the school. At least he wasn't left here gawping like a landed catfish.

The whole difference between there and here was that there, he'd gone without worrying about consequences, just determined to enjoy himself – at least at first. Here, in his uncle's home, he had no idea what expectations he was supposed to fulfill.

His uncle brought a tray with a fancy cut crystal bottle filled with amber fluid, three matching glasses beside it. He began to pour before pausing, looking at Remy somewhat abashedly. "I didn't even think t' ask…y' could have coffee, or whatever y'd like if y' don't want scotch."

Remy flashed his uncle a grin. "Non – scotch is just fine." It would be more than fine really. He desperately wanted something to take the edge off.

Jean-Luc laughed in response and poured him a generous amount, passing it over. Both him and Henri took up there own and they spent a few moments sipping in silence. The scotch had that nice mellow woody flavor of well aged liquor, the kick of it quickly helping to calm him down. The silence gave him time to think though, which wasn't as good for his nerves.

His uncle had just begun to say something when Mercy swept in the room. "I should have known that I'd find you all here." She walked over to her husband, stealing his glass to take a sip out of it. "The room is ready Papa." She looked back at Remy smiling warmly again. "Your things are already in it."

"Bon." Jean-Luc leaned forward setting his nearly empty glass on the tray. "Would y' like t' see it Remy? It's been a long day for y'."

Still feeling as if he was trapped in some bizarre fairy tale, Remy nodded, thriftily tossing the remainder of his Scotch down.

********

Jean-Luc had hoped that Remy would have taken his glasses off once they sat down, but he made no move to, continuing to hide his unusual eyes behind them. He'd already explained to Henri and Mercy about them, and had made firm mention to his staff to treat the boy as if nothing was amiss. Yet he supposed that Remy had probably had nothing but stares and adverse reactions to them, so he couldn't blame the boy for keeping them concealed.

Henri and Mercy were doing their best to just act normal and relaxed around him though, which he suspected would eventually allow the boy to drop his guard with them. They both were a decade older than the boy, but that was still a lot closer in age than he was to him. Jean-Luc hoped they'd find common ground soon.

Remy moved with a controlled grace as he walked with him. It seemed to be totally unconscious on his part. Like a big cat on the prowl.

"So, breakfast is usually ready by eight. Y' can find d' dinin' room if y' head left once y' get t' the bottom of the staircase and keep goin'. Just follow y're nose. Course, y' can always sleep in if y' want an' the cook will fix y' somethin' later."

Remy quietly nodded at that, seeming lost in thought. Ah well – the boy had been through a lot over the last couple of days. That was to be expected.

He led the boy up the staircase, and down to the end of the hall. "Dis used to be Henri's room until he married Mercy." Opening the door he ushered the young man in.

Remy froze on a spot on the carpet about 4 feet into the room, looking around with the oddest expression on his face. Jean-Luc wondered what was running through his head. Was he overwhelmed by the luxury of the room? Knowing that his cousin had grown up surrounded in all this, where he had probably had to do with much cheaper things was probably a bit troubling.

He was surprised when Remy practically leapt forward, scooping his bag off the bed where it had been left, slinging it over one shoulder. The boy turned to where he still stood by the door, crossing the room back to him, looking to walk past.

"Remy's got t' go. Don't belong here."


	4. Chapter 4

He'd managed to shove the fact that he was familiar with the outside of this home to the back of his mind, until he came to this room. The large four poster bed, the rich mahogany furniture, hell - even the picture on the far wall – it was all just as he remembered it. Certainly some of the personal touches from when he had last seen it were gone, but it still jerked him back to the time when he'd first seen it.

Then it had all slammed into him. What the fuck was he thinking? He'd never fit in with this family. They'd never be able to accept him when they knew what he'd done – how he'd lived, the person he was. These guys had spent their entire lives in luxury. He doubted they even had imagined stuff that he found 'normal'.

He felt panicked and did the only thing he could think of. Leave.

Jean-Luc put his arm across the door way though, preventing his escape unless he wanted to confront him physically, which he didn't.

"What are y' talkin' about? If y' don't like d' room, I can get y' another easy enough…"

His uncle seemed to be at a loss for words. Not that Remy could blame him. But he couldn't understand. How could he?

"Remy's just got t' go." He knew he was repeating himself. His heart was hammering in his throat and he considered just turning and going out the window behind him…he knew that there was an easy way down the wall after all.

He was stalled though when Jean-Luc moved his hand from the door frame to his shoulder. "Remy, what's d' matter? Y' were fine up until a minute ago. Is it somethin' dat I did?"

The warm hand clasping his shoulder he knew was meant as a kind gesture, but it made him wanted to shove him away all the harder. He couldn't bear to have that kindness turn to rejection. Dieu – why had he agreed to come here?

"Remy's not your kind of person. All dis – it's just crazy." He waved one arm around the room. "Remy's no Cinderella."

Jean-Luc actually laughed at that, though he hadn't meant it to be funny. He sobered quickly though, squeezing him tighter on the shoulder.

"Y're family Remy. Nothin' else matters."

Remy turned his face away, focusing for a moment on a painting as he struggled for control over his face.

"Non, its you dat doesn't understand. Y' have no idea who Remy is, what he's like." Remy gestured out the door with one hand. "It's y'all dat are family. Remy's got no part in bein' here. Dis was a mistake. Merci for bein' so nice an' all, but dis isn't where Remy belongs."

The pain on Jean-Luc's face stopped him when he would have slipped by. He didn't want to hurt the man. But it was better to get this over with, rather than have it all teased out only to come out in the open later to hit him upside the head. The words that his uncle spoke weren't at all what he expected though.

"Je suis desole, Remy. Dis was all my fault." His uncle looked pleadingly at him. "I know dat we may not seem like we are worth a second chance Remy, turnin' our backs on y' like dat, but I swear t' God I didn't know."

He felt his usual poker face slip at bit at that. Wait…his uncle thought he was mad at him? That didn't make any sense. But it was apparent that he did – his uncle's gaze on him tight with guilt and sorrow.

"Non, dat's not it." He pulled away from his uncle, crossing to sit on the mattress, letting his bag slip off to rest beside him, sighing in defeat. "Look. Remy's done things. Lotsa things. Stuff y' don't want t' know about, neh?"

"Try me." His uncle watched him, relaxing a bit now that he wasn't trying to bolt out the door. "I want to know, Remy."

Running a hand through his hair, Remy ground his teeth in frustration. May as well get this out and over with, and then he could be on his way unhindered.

"Well for starters, Remy stole from y'."

His uncle blinked, obviously not expecting that. Remy sucked in a big breath. Here it came.

"Didn't know it was y', or who you were obviously. Was a few years back. Came up the wall, an' snuck in here." He motioned at the French doors that lead out to the small stone balcony behind him. "Took some jewelry dat was on the dresser dere. An' sold it."

Jean-Luc just nodded, with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"An' Remy's gone an' stole from a lot of other places. Probabally all y're friends an' shit. Also been mixed up with some people dat weren't d' best people t' be associated with. So see – not exactly d' kind of guy dat y' want t' be introducin' around."

***********

Jean-Luc was floored. He couldn't help the surge of relief he felt when he realized that Remy wasn't blaming him. A faint memory tugged at him.

"The jewelry - what was it? Do y' remember?"

After a long look Remy bobbed his head. "Oui, some cufflinks. Took a bit of cash dat was left out too." The boy looked abashed, and like he was wishing the bed would swallow him.

Jean-Luc remembered that. Or rather he remembered chewing Henri out for losing them. Neither of them had realized that they had been stolen – he just thought that Henri had been careless and misplaced them. It had been right after he had graduated from business school. That made him frown in thought. Henri was 32 now…and had been 24 when he graduated.

"How old are y' now? Twenty one?"

Remy regarded him suspiciously, one eyebrow lifting, evidently surprised at the turn of conversation. "Turned twenty last October."

He did some quick math. "Mon Dieu…you were twelve? When y' came here I mean."

The coat clad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Round dere."

"What were y' doin' stealin' at twelve years of age?"

Remy glowered at him a little. "Told y'. Remy's not d' kind of person dat y' are. Dat's what been tellin' you all dis time."

"Non, non…dat's not what I meant." He held up his hands in protest. "It just seems awful young. Didn't y're parents take y' t' task over it? Why did y' want d' money for?"

The blood brightened his nephew's cheeks a bit, as he subtly scuffed on of his feet along the carpet. Jean-Luc let him take the time to think about how he wanted to answer this. Damnit, if he'd only known. It wasn't surprising that his brother had let Remy run a bit wild, and Remy would have probably wanted all the other cool things that the kids his age had, that he probably didn't.

"Remy wasn't with his parents when he was twelve."

Jean-Luc winced. Well that shouldn't have surprised him either. Bastien and Rose had never been responsible enough for a child.

"Well how about y're foster parents den? Or whoever y' were with? Didn't dey wonder where d' money was coming from?"

Remy's hand fisted in the bedcover under him. "Wasn't with anyone. Was on my own."

He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. Looking at the obviously embarrassed young man sitting on the bed, Jean-Luc felt his heart break for him. Grabbing the chair that sat beside the dresser, he pulled it closer to the bed, sitting in it to face Remy at eye level, cursing the glasses that still kept his nephew's gaze hidden.

"Y' were on your own? On d' streets y' mean?"

Remy nodded mutely, refusing to turn his face to him. Jean-Luc sat in a daze. He knew, given how Remy's parents were that he wouldn't have the most secure childhood, but he would have never guessed that his nephew would be on his own at that age.

"How come y' were on y're own at twelve?"

That finally got Remy to look at him. "Remy was ten when he left. An' did it cause it was the right thing t' do. Could look after myself better den dey could. It was fine." There was a weird sense of pride in his words as he said that.

"Ten?" Jean-Luc rested his head in his hands. What a day…such a rollercoaster ride. To bury his brother and find out he had a nephew was enough. He had been left thinking as the afternoon and evening had drug on that the moment in the cemetery was the only time he'd get to see him. But then Remy had called – and agreed to come here. However - now to find out all this? Jean-Luc felt so horrifically guilty. He'd failed his brother, certainly. But he'd failed the boy in front of him so profoundly more.

************

Remy watched Jean-Luc cradle his head for a moment. While this wasn't quite how he'd pictured this conversation going, there was no doubt that his uncle was shocked. He supposed that was natural – he was perfectly aware that he hadn't lived a typical life, even though it had suited him just fine. It wasn't like he was really ashamed of how he'd lived, it just wasn't something that he thought that these people were prepared to deal with. They had an image to maintain.

He wasn't prepared for how haunted the look was that his gave him when he finally looked back up. "I am so sorry Remy, I really am. I can't go back and fix any of it though."

His uncle's hand came tentatively up, hovering for a minute over his knee, before it settled on it. "I failed y' Remy."

Looking at the hand on his knee Remy felt liked he'd lost track of the conversation again. "What are y' talkin' about?" His mind flitted back to the conversation that his Mere and his uncle had at the cemetery. "Y' said dat my parents lied t' y', oui?"

"Oui. Dey told me y' died when y' were born. But I didn't check into it. If I had…" Jean-Luc shook his head sadly. "I should have done somethin'."

"My parents told y' I died?" This was a weird conversation.

His uncle seemed to think of something. "Oui. An' dey didn't tell y' about me either did dey?" Jean-Luc asked with a half smile.

"Non."

"Dieu…why? I always said I'd help dem…I did everythin' dat I could when I found out dat Rose was pregnant."

Remy looked at him, snorting. "Y're forgettin' d' eyes, homme."

Jean-Luc tipped his head and nodded. "Suppose maybe dat was it. Dey were a odd couple." He squeezed Remy's knee. "Would y' mind taking y're glasses off again? Only got t' see dem for but a moment earlier."

With a small grimace, he drug his glasses off. What was so hard about that anyway? He wasn't supposed to be caring what others thought about them anymore right? That was part of the good that he'd seen in the commune. That sense of pride in who they were – and others be damned. Yet – this was different somehow. He realized that a part of him wanted desperately to fit in with this family…now where did that come from? Why should it matter? He'd been fine on his own all these years.

Jean-Luc just gazed back into them for minutes, without saying a word. "Y' were born with dem den?"

"Oui."

"Did y' ever see anyone about dem? Was it d' stuff y're parents did y' think?"

Remy snorted at that. "Well, Remy didn't know what t' really think for years. Thought dat was some product of d' devil or somethin'. But turns out dat its just part of bein' a mutant."

"A mutant?" his uncle's brow creased in question at the unusual use of the word.

"Oui…" Remy wondered how far he could trust this man. "It's somethin' t' do with our DNA an' all…we're 'more evolved' or somethin' like dat. Some of us have got just powers but others, like Remy, look different too."

"Powers?"

Remy couldn't help but snicker a bit at his uncles wide eyed expression. "Oui. It's not just d' eyes. Remy can blow shit up too." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a playing card, flipping it between long fingers. Powering it up till it glowed brightly, he held it in front of his uncle's eyes before letting the charge trickle out again.

******************

He watched in amazement as the card flared a lurid pink, and then turned into just a normal card again. So that's why he'd whipped one out when Theoren had come around the car. "Though y' said dat it would blow up?"

He was rewarded with a rich chuckle from Remy. "Well, can blow it up, but didn't think dat would be so good for us or dis room. Had t' learn t' take d' charge out of stuff as well as put it in."

Remy's eyes sparkled with mischievousness as he looked at him, for once not trying to hide his unusual eyes from him. "Y' wanna it t' blow up?" The boy stood up and walked over to the doors, opening them to the sultry humid air and stepping out into the night. He looked over his shoulder at him, looking for the world like a small kid about to show off.

Jean-Luc found himself caught up in Remy's mood. He joined his nephew, their shoulders companionably rubbing together as they stood out looking over the moonlight grounds.

"Good thing dat y' don't really have any close neighbors." Remy chuckled and held up the card. "Ready?"

Jean-Luc nodded and watched as the pink glow took over the card again, but this time Remy flicked it out into the sky in a fluid movement. The card arched out for an amazingly long distance before exploding in a shockingly large boom. Jean-Luc found his eyebrows climbing to his hairline. When Remy had said 'blow up' he'd pictured a firecracker like explosion. That looked more like it could take out a wall.

Remy was laughing at his wide-eyed expression. "Well, have t' say dat's a bigger boom den I was expectin'." He smiled back at his nephew. "Quite d' talent y' have dere."

A knock sounded at the door and Henri's concerned voice called through it. "Papa? Is everthin' alright? Dere was some sort of explosion out in the back yard…d' y' think dat we should call d' police or the utilities people or somethin'?"

Remy tuned a semi-guilty pleading look to him and Jean-Luc patted his shoulder in reassurance. "Non, its fine. Don't worry about it."

"Okay…." The words trailed off in question, but Henri didn't press and they could hear the footsteps retreating back down the hall.

"Merci." Remy walked with him back into the room, as Jean-Luc carefully shut the doors behind him.

"Pas d' problem. Y' can tell dem when y' are ready." He eyed his nephew as he settled back down on the bed, glad that a lot of the tension had bled out of his form. "So den, all mutants can blow stuff up like dat?"

Remy shook his head and brushed his bangs back off his face again. "Non…we can all do different things."

"Really?" Jean-Luc settled back into his chair again. "Well, dat's interestin'." He sat and thought about the conversation they'd shared over dinner. "Is dat what d' school is about?"

Remy nodded, obviously wanting to be cautious of what he said about it. It all made sense really…how else was a street kid going to end up in a university somewhere like New York? He doubted that Remy would have sought it out unless there was a special reason for it. Jean-Luc had a million questions that he wanted to ask about it, but he didn't want to push Remy either.

"Are y' feelin' any better?" Remy looked at him questioningly. Jean-Luc was glad that the boy wasn't hiding behind the glasses anymore...once you got used to his eyes, they were amazingly compelling and expressive. "I would still be grateful if y'd agree t' stay here for a bit. Dere is just so much I don't know about y'."

Remy gave him a small shy smile at that. "If y' want me…suppose so. For a little bit." He added.

"Certainment." Jean-Luc stood. "Well, perhaps I should let y' get some rest den. It's pretty late." Pausing at the door, he smiled. "Bon nuit, mon neveu." That earned him another small smile and he shut the door behind him, happy that he would have a second chance at least. How he was supposed to make it up to the boy he didn't know, but he was determined to.


	5. Chapter 5

When he awoke the next morning he spent a moment in sheer confusion before all the memories came tumbling back. He was in his uncle's house. He had an uncle. A wealthy uncle. It was more the kind of thing that you expected to wake up from and have it all be just a weird pipe dream.

He sat up in bed, the fine linens cool against his mostly bare skin. He'd become used to simply sleeping nude with Talia, even at the commune, but had decided to keep a pair of boxers on for modesty's sake here.

Talia. Dieu he missed her. A large part of him had wanted to bring her, but he hadn't known what he was walking into. It would have been doubly confusing to have her with him. She was still pissed at him for not coming back right away to the school, and she hadn't been impressed that he was taking off to parts unknown again so soon. All the reasoning did nothing to hold off his loneliness though, nor hers, he suspected.

His stomach growled loudly and he looked at the bedside clock. 8:12. Merde – he was late for breakfast! Quickly pulling some clothes on, he ran a brush through his hair and slipped his shades on, hurrying downstairs. His uncle was right, you could smell the coffee and warm homey smells of sausages and bread from far off.

Locating the dining room he wasn't surprised to find everyone already gathered there, but felt a little out of place and lingered for a moment in the doorway.

"Remy!" Mercy looked up from her plate and smiled, beckoning him in. "We thought we'd leave you to sleep in, but you've made it before the food even had a chance to get cold. Come in. Sit."

His uncle and Henri had looked up from their papers that they held in their hands at the exchange, and both folded them and smiled in welcome as well. Remy couldn't help but grin back. While his uncle and cousin didn't have a lot of striking physical similarities their smiles were exactly the same. The same as his he realized.

He took the chair where the extra plate was set – nearer to the center the large table, and looked at the variety of covered dishes set out on the table. Unsure where to start he jumped slightly in surprise as Mercy pressed cool fingertips to his arm.

"Would you like some coffee?" She waved a hand indicating the carafe that was set to his left. "There is some eggs Hussarde, sausages, pain perdu, bacon and couche couche." She indicated the covered trays as she mentioned each item. "Or the cook can prepare anything that you would like."

He muttered a brief thanks and selected a few items, placing them on his plate and filling his cup with the rich smelling coffee. He picked up his fork and took a mouthful, before realizing that he was being rude. John had said many things to him, but the one that stuck out foremost at the moment was that eating with everyone at the table while still wearing his sunglasses was inappropriate. He certainly didn't want to offend these people, with their impeccable table manners and social graces.

Sliding shades off, he folded them and placed them carefully beside his plate, catching his uncle's slight smile and nod of approval. He must have told Mercy and Henri about his eyes, because other than a quick interested glance each, they made no additional comments or overt stares.

"So did y' sleep alright?" his uncle asked conversationally, while he picked at his breakfast.

"Oui, merci – it was very comfortable." Remy nearly sighed in bliss at the well spiced food. Whoever the cook was, they certainly knew their job.

Mercy smiled at his small noise of enjoyment. "Papa tells us that you've been in New York lately."

Remy attacked the food more determinedly. "Oui, goin' t' school up dere." He waved a fork at his eggs. "Good cookin' up dere an' all, but nothin' like dis."

Henri chucked at that, and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table which Mercy just rolled her eyes and shook her head affectionately at him. "So, what are y' goin' for den? Have y' thought what y'd like to major in?"

He paused in mid chew at the unexpected question. He'd never really considered what he was learning…he just did it. It wasn't like they chose classes to attend. He hadn't really thought about what his future would be like in that sense – having a career and all. He'd just pictured the rest of his life being pretty much like it was now. "Non, haven't quite figured dat out yet."

"Well y' still 'ave plenty of time." His uncle said, sipping at his coffee. "Y're just wrappin' up your first year, neh? All y' have t' do is keep y're grades up, an' y' can choose a direction next year."

He found himself squirming a bit at the 'grades' comment. Not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure that he'd blown this past semester to hell, seeming as he had left for most of it. He's never really thought of the school in a 'career planning' way – it was a way to bid his time and enjoy himself. This family of course would put a higher value on education.

"So did it snow lots this year?" Mercy had noticed his discomfort and tried to steer the topic back into neutral territory. He smiled at her in gratitude.

"Oui. Remy nearly froze his ass off." He winced realizing that his language was a bit raw, but the three of them just laughed at his off the cuff comment.

"I've been t' New York several times in d' winter an' y're right Remy. It's too cold for dis southerner." His uncle said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Can't believe d' amount of snow dat can fall in one day dere."

They continued to chat about incidental things the rest of the meal, Mercy and Henri discussing an upcoming party of some sort. Remy just let the conversation wash over him, enjoying the peace and warmth of the moment. It was hard to believe that he was all a part of this.

"Well papa, I have a meetin' in a bit, so I must be off." He nodded to Remy and stood, crossing to around the room to his wife, whispering something in her ear that left her smiling and blushing.

Mercy sighed, and placed her napkin on her plate. "I should be getting some things done as well. It was good seeing you again Remy. Papa." She nodded to the older man, and left – leaving just him and his Uncle at the table.

"D' y' need t' do anythin' today? If y' got t' go t' work or anythin' Remy can go run around d' city an' keep hisself occupied." What the hell did his uncle do anyway? He'd never thought to ask.

Jean-Luc just made a dismissive noise. "Non, y're not goin' anywhere. I had a meetin' today but it's already been rescheduled. Would much rather spend some more time with y'." Remy felt himself flushing a bit at the compliment and hoped his uncle wouldn't notice. What the hell was it about this man that made him feel like such a little kid again?

"So what d' y' do anyway?"

His uncle looked at him, considering. "Investments mainly. Play d' stock market, back businesses that I think are gonna do well, dat sort of thing. Most d' meetin's I go t' are for other things though. Clubs, charity stuff – all the things dat my pere did an more."

"Y're pere…" his grandpere he realized. His uncle kept referring to this as the family home, and everything to do with it like it was old news. "Did he buy dis place den?"

"Non…dis house has been in d' family for generations. D' LeBeau's have always been a force t' be reckoned with. We're one of d' oldest families in dis city." Jean-Luc gave him a savvy look. "Y're wonderin' about y're Papa?"

"Oui." He actually didn't know if he wanted to know…but it was another piece of the puzzle. If he was going to try and fit into it, he had to know what the picture looked like.

Jean-Luc nodded. "Y' should know. I'll answer any questions dat y' have for me. But maybe we should go somewhere more comfortable so breakfast can get cleared away? Want t' go out on d' patio?"

Remy nodded. He was dying for a smoke. He followed his uncle through the odd twists and turns in the house out through some big French doors onto a large area set with flagstones. Like everything else about this house the area screamed of good taste and money. The grass extending out from the stones was neatly mowed, and there was an abundance of shrubberies and flower beds that still left large open areas. Large old growth trees provided shade in areas and it was to a bench under one that his uncle led him too.

"So y're pere." He watched Remy as he lit his cigarette with his fingertip. "Guess it's good for more dan blowin' stuff up, neh?" he chuckled a bit. "Bastien was my little brother. An' Dieu he was a firecracker. Always into somthin'. Papa used t' get on his case all d' time, but nothin' much worked. Bastien was a stubborn one, an' Papa an' him would but heads somethin' fierce."

Remy took a deep drag off his cigarette and blew it out, relaxing more as the nicotine reached his system. "So…he gave y're pere grief den?"

"Oh Dieu…Bastien gave everyone trouble. He fell into the wrong crowd an' it just went down from dere." He looked at Remy with a twist to his mouth. "Don't want y' t' think dat y're Pere was all bad…he wasn't. Its just dat he made some pretty bad choices, an' kept on makin' dem. When he was about nineteen papa had enough of him stealin' and lyin' and givin' the family a bad name an' so he kicked him out."

Remy could see his Pere doing that – it fit the bill. His Pere hadn't ever seemed to make any good choices from what he could remember. Most of his memories of the man mainly were of him being drunk or high. Other than that, he left him pretty much alone.

"I've always felt bad about dat. Didn't seem fair dat I got all d' inheritance an' Bastien was cut out of it entirely, but d' way Papa saw it was dat dere wouldn't be any inheritance left if Bastein was around. When Papa disowned him dere was a real fuss about it, an' we lost touch with him for a while. But den, about a year after Papa died, he popped up again, askin' for money an' help with dis or dat."

His uncle sighed and leaned heavily on the back of the bench, making it creak a bit. "I couldn't say no, even though I knew dat he was usin' it t' buy drugs an' stuff. Den one day he shows up with y're Mere…an' tells me he's gonna be a Papa." He smiled at Remy. "Coulda knocked me over with a feather, but y' just have t' make d' best of things. Rose an' him seemed really determined t' make a good try of it. They straightened up a bit, an' I got dem set up in a house an' everythin'. Bastien even managed t' keep a job for a couple of months."

Remy frowned. "But thought y' said dat dey didn't tell y' about Remy?"

Jean-Luc looked at him sadly at that. "Well, knew dat Rose was pregnant an' all. But den one day Bastien came an' told me dat dey needed more money…an' when I asked about if d' baby had been born yet, he said dat Rose had a still birth. When I asked if we could bury d' bebe in d' family crypt Bastein said dat dey'd already done it…an' for me t' keep my nose out of it. Bastien an' me got in a big fight about dat, I was plenty sore over it. He just said dat he wasn't part of d' family no more so his child didn't need t' be buried dere."

All of this was answering some of the questions that he had, while replacing each of them with a dozen more. "So dat's where dey got d' money? Could never figure out where dey got it from – thought dat dey just stole it like Remy did."

"Non…I gave dem money. Knew dat dey were buyin' drugs with it – dat kind of money shoulda had dem livin' comfortabally, but Bastien an' Rose always looked run down an' all…but what could I do? I couldn't live in dis kind of lifestyle an' not help dem out."

He leaned forward and looked intently at Remy. "But I swear – if I hadn't thought y' t' be dead I would have never left y' t' dat. I should have checked…I just never thought dat dey would lie t' me about that. I can't say how sorry I am for dat Remy. I can't ever give y' those years back."

Remy swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. There was no doubting the man's sincerity. But what was he supposed to say? Thank you for wanting to help me? Did it make a difference?

As he smoked the last of his cigarette to the butt his uncle just sat quietly beside him and let him think. Remy picked at a thumbnail. He'd never really understood the whole story behind his parents…he'd known that they had made mistakes and all, but the idea of his father being a disowned son of a family of this wealth would have never crossed his mind.

It wasn't the money that he gave a shit about; in fact if anything it made it harder for him to accept his uncle's advances. He didn't want his uncle to think he was just another lowlife come to mooch off of him.

When he finally got to the root of his thinking, the revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. He wanted a family. It had been hard watching Talia with hers…not because of John so much as it was because it took that 'dream' family that he thought only existed on television or in books and placed it right in his lap. But he was still on the outside looking in at it. It wasn't something that he was a part of.

But this? This was his family. And he was desperately afraid that he was going to fuck this up.

******************

Jean-Luc watched Remy fidget on the opposite end of the bench. He knew that it must have been hard for the boy to hear him talk about his parents like that, and he wished he could make it easier on him. Mostly he was filled with regret. He should have been there from day one, checking on him and making sure that he was cared for. This boy was his family and he failed him in the worst way possible.

He didn't know if he'd lost the chance to reach out to this young man years ago either. What had he had to deal with through all those years? The idea of how Remy must have lived growing up on the streets of New Orleans had kept him awake until the sky started to lighten. He hadn't been able to sleep at all until he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to try and make it up to the troubled youth that sat beside him.

The funny thing is that in a weird way it made him proud of him. While Remy undoubtedly had issues, he was also an extremely charismatic strong young man. He had found his path, and while Jean-Luc knew that it wasn't one that was lily-scented, Remy hadn't made the choices that his parents had, despite having the deck stacked against him.

"So what now?" The voice was quiet, but it was what he'd been waiting for.

"Well dat is up t' y' Remy. I've screwed dis up royally, an' dere is nothin' dat I can ever do t' fix dat. But I would love t' try." Jean-Luc blinked rapidly and sucked in a big breath. "Will y' stay? Maybe for a few days or a week if y' can manage it? We'd all love t' get t' know y' a bit better."

Remy had the most bewildered look on his face. It made him look so young. "If y' want, suppose dat Remy could stay for a bit."

Jean-Luc had always been an affectionate man. His father had never been much of one, keeping a respectable distance between himself and his sons. It was part of the reason that Jean-Luc figured that Bastein had fallen in with the group that he had – some unmet need to feel like he belonged. So Jean-Luc had lavished affection on his son, and later on the daughter that his son had brought to him.

He knew Remy hadn't had that – the kid had barely had parents for that matter. Hoping not to startle him too much he leaned forward and folded his arms around the young man's shoulders, pulling him into a gentle hug. Remy stiffened in shock for a minute, but then his body relaxed into his grip and Jean-Luc felt him hesitantly reach his own arms up to return the hug.

"We'll find a way, petit. We'll work dis out."


	6. Chapter 6

He moved through the room, unpacking his bag as his uncle had bid him to do. He was filled with nervous energy. He wanted to find out more about his family, yet he also missed Talia badly. He was worried about how she was faring at the school without him, unsure if she may still be facing repercussions for his actions. He'd had to go – it was his father's funeral, for Christ's sake, but now that was done, so he felt guilty for wanting to stay. They'd barely had time to start to figure stuff out before he'd gone and left her again.

Jesus, she must be worried sick about him. He'd have to find a way to reach her. Maybe ask his uncle if he could use the phone. Snorting at himself, he shook his head. Even as simple as a thing as making a long distance call on his uncle's dollar made him uncomfortable – it all still felt like he was taking charity. He didn't want that. He already owed Xavier for helping him with the flight and hotel.

Still…it wasn't practical for him to walk to the nearest payphone, considering the kind of the neighborhood he was in. It wasn't like there was a convenience store just down the street.

He walked back over to his bag that he'd placed on the dresser and dug to the bottom of it pulling out a plain envelope. He slid a picture out of it, smiling fondly at the image. It was one of the two of them, her snuggled into his chest as he looped one arm casually around her, his hand resting on her hip. It was a very chaste, yet it forcibly brought to mind exactly all the things that he was missing about her.

"All unpacked?" The unexpected voice made Remy flinch, reflexively pressing the picture to his chest to hide it. His uncle entered the room, smiling warmly at him.

"Didn't mean t' startle y' like dat." He cocked his head as he looked at the photo clutched in Remy's hand. "What's dat?"

He felt his stomach twist. He wasn't sure how his uncle would react. Their bond was so fragile and new, and Remy knew that if his uncle reacted adversely to Talia that it would be destroyed. Talia was his love, his focus, and she came before anyone else. Was it too much to ask to have both?

"It's…my girlfriend an' me."

Jean-Luc smiled wider. "Talia right? May I see?"

Sucking in a deep breath and taking a step back, he passed the photo over, looking somewhat challenging at his uncle, who was by now looking at him with more of a question on his face due to his odd behavior.

His uncle took the picture from him and blinked at the picture for a minute, eyebrows rising. He found himself scowling at his uncle's reaction. "Y' know dat Remy said dat we're mutants, neh?"

"Oh, oui, just didn't quite know what t' expect." His uncle studied the picture intently. "Didn't quite expect blue somehow, but she's a very pretty girl. Y' two look very happy in dis picture." He looked back at Remy, the smile slipping from his face a bit as he noticed the way Remy was looking at him. "What's d' matter?"

He paused a minute before answering "It's just…Talia is a lovely woman. Too many people don't see dat – dey just look at her an' think 'freak'. Remy would do anything t' protect her from dat – but people are still gonna do it." He crossed his arms over his chest, and looked his uncle in the eye. "An', I love her. She's d' most important thing in d' world t' me."

Jean-Luc just smiled at him for a minute, taking one last look at the picture before he passed it back. "Glad dat y' found someone t' share dat with. It's a precious thing."

He cupped the photo in his hands for a minute before sliding it back in the envelope and putting it away in a drawer.

"Why didn't she come down with y'?"

He found himself frowning again. "Cause it wasn't safe for her. Didn't know what Remy was gettin' into down here." He sighed and shrugged. "We came down here with some of the other students for Mardi Gras. Bumped into Papa an' Maman – y' can't imagine how surprised dat Remy t' see dem. It was how Maman knew how t' reach me at d' school. Dey didn't treat Talia so nice. Remy didn't want her t' be exposed t' dat again."

Jean-Luc grimaced. "Dey were rude t' y' two den? Is dat why y' were worried about showin' me d' picture?"

"Supposed dat was part of it, oui. But dere's lots of people dat treat 'er like dat. It's just such a crock of shit." Remy leaned one hip on the dresser. "As for Maman an' Papa, shouldn't really be surprised about dat. Dey even thought dat dere own kid was a freak."

He felt his uncle's warm hand on his shoulder again. "Did y' ever think dat maybe some of dat was because dey felt guilty?"

He jerked his gaze to his uncle's face again. "Guilty? Porquoi?"

"Well, y' know dat dey took drugs an' stuff, oui? I know dat dey cut down on it quite a bit while y're Mere was pregnant with y'…but I doubt very much dat she never took anything d' whole time. Maybe dey blamed demselves for d' fact y' were different?"

He'd never thought of it that way before. It had always been his fault. The thought that maybe his parents blamed themselves never had even crossed his mind. "Maybe…"

"Guilt can make people do funny things Remy." He hesitated for a minute, looking thoughtfully at him. "D' y' think dat she'd want t' come down and stay here with y' for a few days? Y' obviously miss her, an' it would be good t' meet her. I'd be happy t' fly her down, if y' think dat she'd agree."

He didn't quite know what to make of that offer – he wanted to give this thing with his family a few more days, and the temptation of having Talia by his side while he worked through it all was intoxicating, but he was still a bit nervous at the thought of it. He wanted her to be safe. He'd screwed that up for her enough lately, taking her to the fringes. He never wanted to put her in that sort of situation again – where she was choosing to do something she didn't want to do just to be with him. But – this wasn't quite the same either. Ultimately he guessed it all came down to if he trusted his uncle.

The thing was, he had a hard time really trusting people…especially cause it kept coming back to bite him in the ass. He'd partially trusted Jono after all…and look where that had got Talia and him? But then – part of this was because he'd been the one making decisions for Talia – maybe it was time that he backed off and just let her decide.

"Remy'll ask. Is dere a phone dat I can use?"

He was rewarded with another large smile from his uncle, who also clapped him on the shoulder. "Bein! An' of course – y' don't have t' ask – just call whomever y' want, whenever y' want. Dere are phones scattered all through dis place."

"Merci." Remy smiled back. The man's enthusiasm was catching.

Jean-Luc dramatically slapped himself on the forehead. "Why didn't I think of dis sooner! Do y' think d' two of y' could stay till next Friday? I know dat's nearly a week – mais I am throwin' a bit of a party, an' it would be great if y' could be dere."

"A party?" Remy squirmed at that. While the term was usually something he'd be all over in a minute, he didn't think that his uncle meant that type of party. On top of it there was Talia – how would she feel about all that? "Dunno…Talia an' crowds – it don't always work so well."

His uncle frowned, considering that for a minute. "Can see y're point, oui. But y' are my nephew, and she is y're companion. Dat is enough. We're d' LeBeau's, an' we don't bend t' others opinions." He nodded. "Y' ask her, an' if she'll come, den dat's all y' have t' worry about. Let y're Uncle take care of d' rest."

"D' LeBeau's?" His uncle had said it so matter of fact – like he should know what he meant.

"Mais, oui." His uncle chuckled. "Y' have a lot t' learn about d' family Remy, but trust y're uncle Jean-Luc when he tells y' dat no one is gonna say anythin' about my nephew or his guest."

***************

He was on time for dinner at least, ducking in just before Mercy and Henri, taking the same spot as he had earlier. His uncle was already sitting at the head of the table to the left of him, reading the top page of something that looked like a report. He folded it up, tossing it to the buffet behind him as Mercy and Henri came in.

"So did y' get a chance t' talk t' Talia den?" His uncle asked, raising one eyebrow at him.

"Oui." Remy chuckled in memory. "She tore a strip off of Remy for leavin' her t' worry like dat again." Not that he blamed her really. He been giving her enough grief lately and he supposed that he'd do the same in her shoes.

"Talia?" Mercy asked looking between Jean-Luc and himself.

"Oui. She's Remy's girlfriend. I've asked if they'd care t' stay an' join us for our little Fais Do Do."

Mercy looked rapt at that. "Oh, perfect! I've got most of it planned out, but I could always use a hand with the last minute things that come up. And it would be the perfect time for you to meet the rest of the circle Remy."

"Y' didn't even let d' boy tell us if dey can make it Mercy, an' y're already puttin' him t' work." Jean-Luc chuckled.

Henri slid him a conspiratorial look. "Y' better run while y' can, Remy. Let my wife get her claws into y' an' she'll have y' wonderin' which way is up before y' know it." He mock whispered to him. He jerked suddenly and rubbed his shin. "What was dat for?"

"Never you mind him." Mercy ignored her husband's complaints. "So? Are you able to come?

"Taila said she'd come, oui." After he'd managed to convince her that this wasn't some elaborate joke. He barely believed all this himself, so he couldn't fault her reaction. He'd broken the news to her after reassuring her that he was, in fact, just fine. She had been fairly angry at him for leaving her to worry again. How did she think that he'd managed all these years anyway?

Jean-Luc had floored her though. He had a rich uncle? The concept had seemed so incongruous. At first she's been angry – thinking that he'd hidden such a huge part of his life from her – before he'd explained it all. His fears, his own confusion and mixed emotions about the whole situation just came tumbling out. Then she'd been sweet and tried to reassure him that of course his uncle would want to get to know him better. He'd gotten the distinct impression that she would have vastly preferred him to get his ass back on a plane and home to her, but she'd understood his need to find his place here.

And so she'd agreed to come. She'd had a million questions, but she agreed in the end. His uncle had given him the name of his travel agent in case, and the lady who had answered had obviously received some sort of previous instructions, because she didn't even pause when he explained what he'd wanted – just given him the flight time and number, and refused to answer his questions on the cost of it. 'Mr. LeBeau has left instructions that he will take care of it' his ass. He'd find out and pay his uncle back…somehow.

So – Talia would be here by tomorrow. It was great because he wanted to see her so badly, but he was also terrified of her having to fly out here on her own and all. The past couple of months had been so hard for her, and here he was asking her to do more for him. It hardly seemed fair. At least it was a direct flight, and she'd promised that someone from the school would drop her off.

The cook brought them each their plates and Remy dug into his without another word. Every time he returned to New Orleans it just served to remind him of how much he missed the spices and flavors of home. The people in New York seemed entirely too fixated on 'saturated fats' and all that to just kick back and enjoy the finer things in life.

"So y' already arrange for the flight wit' Louise?" His uncle asked him in between bites.

"Oui, but she wouldn't tell Remy what it cost. Gonna pay y' back for all dis."

His uncle made a noise of dismissal. "Don' y' start all dat again. Told y' once already, it my gift t' y' Remy."

Remy just focused on his food for a minute, lips stubbornly pressed together.

Sighing his uncle put his fork down. "How about I try phrasin' it dis way Remy. If my Pere had been alive when y' were born, he would have seen to it dat y' received an' inheritance and an' allowance. I'd be doin' him a huge dishonor by not followin' what my Pere would have wanted, oui?"

Remy just sipped his water in silence, letting his uncle's words wash over him.

"Damnit, Remy y're not listenin' t' a word I'm sayin' are y?" his uncle said in a mix of exasperation and humor.

Remy put his glass down and smiled sweetly at his uncle. "Non."

Jean-Luc just laughed. "Y're just as stubborn as I was at dat age." He waved his fork at him. "But just y' mind me boy…I've gotten a lot stubborner with age. Y'll learn dat y're uncle always gets his way sooner or later."

He fought the surge of rebellion for now and shrugged again - going back to eating his dinner, which made his uncle snort loudly again. Mercy and Henri had been watching the play by play with barely constrained mirth.

"Y' got y're hands full wit' dis one papa." Henri winked at him while saying it to take the edge off his words. "He might wear y' down yet."

Mercy just leaned back into her chair, pushing her empty plate to the side while she sipped at her glass of wine. "If there is one thing I've learned about you two over the years…" she gestured at his uncle and his cousin. "it's that LeBeau's are as stubborn as the day is long. The only difference is that Papa here has more experience at it." She flashed a smile at him. "Honey, you don't stand a chance in hell."


	7. Chapter 7

Remy stood impatiently at the arrival gate waiting for the plane to finally taxi into place and release its load of passengers. He was excited, anxious and generally a bundle of nerves. He had missed Talia, but now faced with her imminent arrival he wondered if he had been selfish asking her to come. With all the stuff that had happened recently, he'd put her through enough. And yet, here she was again, willing to follow where he wished.

Topping it all off was the whole uncertainty of the situation with his uncle. He'd only spent a couple of days with the man after all – and as much as Jean-Luc went on about him being family and all, he still couldn't shake the worry that this could all just blow up in his face easy as that. It just seemed too good to be true.

People began to file out of the walkway and he pushed himself off the wall where he'd been leaning, trying to just blend in with the crowds. A flash of blue under a deep hood made his heart leap. She must have spotted him at the same time because she threaded her way quickly past the people in front of her, throwing herself forward into his arms. He crushed her tightly to his chest, oblivious to the onlookers around them.

"Hey chere, did y' have a good flight?"

She looked up at him, eyes twinkling and leaned up, giving him a quick kiss that made him forget what he was going to ask her next.

"It was good. So loooong. Why can't they make those seats bigger? I got stuck between the window and some guy that fell asleep and started snoring and I couldn't even move the whole flight." She trailed her fingers along his jaw. "I missed you."

"I missed y' too." He smiled down at her, leaning forward to press his lips to hers again when he suddenly realized that they were in the middle of a rather large swarm of people trying to brush past, several of which had stopped to gawk at Talia. Wrapping a protective arm around her, he steered her through and out of the crowded areas, stopping briefly to gather her luggage.

"So this uncle…what is he like?"

He gave her a smile. "Well…told y' about some of d' stuff, neh? What he told me about my Pere an' stuff." She nodded at him. "He seems like a nice guy, though think dat maybe he's a bit stubborn when he wants his way."

She rolled her eyes at that. "A family member of yours? Stubborn? Never woulda guessed."

He swatted her behind in retaliation. "He seems t' be pretty caught up in all dis 'makin' things up t' me'. An' he keeps on askin' me about shit – not really pryin' though – it's just like he's tryin' to catch up. Like Remy's his favorite TV show or somethin'."

"So you like him?" She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and he held her closer, their legs bumping as they walked out of the airport.

"Oui. He's been really nice." He smiled at her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Theoren was already out of the car and walking towards the two of them.

He passed the bag over, as TJ looked at the man with a questioning frown and then back to him. Theoren placed the bag in the trunk, and then opened the door for them. He shrugged. It felt weird, but his uncle had insisted that Theoren take him. Not that he really had any choice other that – there was no public transit anywhere near his uncle's house, but still – having all this fuss made him feel like an idiot.

"Talia, dis is Theoren." The chauffeur nodded politely at her, and Remy ushered her into the car, sliding up to sit close to her.

Talia waited for him to shut the door and then looked at him. "Who is Theoren? You never said anything about another guy!"

"What? Oh – he's not another relative, chere. Theoren's d'driver." He snuggled closer to her, drawing her to him.

"Driver?" She stopped as Theoren slipped back in the car. "Your uncle has people to drive for him?" She whispered in his ear.

"Oui." He smiled and shrugged it off, leaning forward to finally kiss her like he had wanted to since the moment he'd seen her step off the plane. They kept things discrete enough – while Theoren may be keeping his eyes firmly on the road in front of him, he was still there – but it was still promising enough to leave him shifting in his seat.

She noticed and smiled wickedly, drawing her fingers teasingly up his thigh. He captured her hand and kissed it, nipping at the back of one knuckle in warning. "Dieu, what am I gonna do with y' chere?"

Chuckling she tipped her head back a bit, raking him with a look. "That's a dumb question."

They snuggled for a few minutes, sharing small stories with each other. Talia, watching the scenery flash by, began oohing and ahhing at the houses as they drew nearer to their destination.

"Wow – look at that one! These places are huuuge. Are there any movie stars that live here?"

He just listened as Theoren told her about a few of the places, and to her animated chatter in response. He didn't recognize any of the names anyway, regardless of how impressed that Talia may see by the name dropping. Theoren was currently trying to impress on her the difference between 'celebrities' and the 'old families' of New Orleans. Evidently Theoren had no doubt as to who was the crème of this city.

As they pulled up his uncle's drive Talia's eyes went huge. "This is your uncle's place? It looks like 'Gone with the wind!'." Theoren just chuckled at that but it made him think, so he looked appraisingly over the house again. If there had been any hurricane damage he certainly couldn't see any remnants. When she started going on about some lady named Scarlett her realized that she must be talking about another movie of hers or something.

He helped her out of the car and up the steps where his uncle already stood waiting for them. Talia stuck close to his side, her hand tightening on his arm in nervousness. Well…here went nothing.

*******************

He watched his nephew and his girlfriend together. The girl was even more striking in real life – a real live person that was blue from head to toe. He'd not noticed the differences in her hands and feet in the photo. It was hard to conceptualize a real living human being that looked like this – until you were literally faced with one.

Yet once you looked at her and Remy together – whispering things to each other as she clung to his nephew's arm, it all just fell into place. She was just a girl – who was in love with his nephew. It didn't matter how different she was. And once you got past the blue, she was a very striking young woman. He could understand what attracted Remy to her.

Remy walked her up to him and introduced Talia, with just the slightest air of nervousness to him. His nephew hid things well – but once you got to know Remy a bit – and if you watched very carefully for it, you could read more into the slight shifts in his face. Mostly, you knew something was troubling him when he dropped into that deadpan poker expression. It was just a matter of figuring out what it was that had upset him.

"Bonjour. I'm very pleased t' meet the lady my nephews been talkin' about so much." He smiled charmingly at her. "Y' must be tired after dat flight, can I offer y' something t' drink?"

"Um…sure. Thanks." She looked a little shyly at him and looked back to Remy who smiled at her encouragingly.

He took her hand in his own and looped it over his arm. "How about we sit outside for a bit in d' shade? Unless y'd rather be inside?"

"The backyard sounds nice."

He led her through the house, smiling at the way her eyes widened as she took in the furnishings along the way. Remy just followed on their heels, looking a trifle more relaxed, but still obviously intent on shadowing his girlfriend. Talia listened intently to him as he pointed things in the home out to her, and as she warmed up to him she started asking questions, even pulling him to one side to look at a painting.

He knew full well that this was a trial of sorts for him. Mess this up and he doubted Remy would have much to do with the family. Fortunately, he found himself adjusting to the situation quickly. He was sure that Remy would have been able to tell if he forced it, so he was happy to find that he didn't have to. She was a sweet little thing.

After asking that the beverages be brought out to them, he led the two of them out to the yard, this time choosing a small café table that was set up at the edge of the pool.

He just sat and listened as Remy and Talia spoke to each other, her leaning into him as he sat with one arm around her waist. The ease of their conversation, and the level of comfort that they showed with each tiny caress, answered the one question he had thought indelicate to ask his nephew.

When the iced tea came they each took a glass, a bit of an awkward silence falling on the pair as they watched him. Smiling in what he hoped was a comforting way he waited them out, knowing it was better to let them come to him rather than to push any conversation on them. Remy reminded him of a sunning alligator – utterly relaxed, while still emanating the promise of power that could be unleashed at the bat of an eye. He sighed quietly as he took a sip of his drink. He'd hoped to be able to set his nephew more at ease than this, but the youth sat watching him with a wary eye, unobtrusively guarding Talia.

Talia was the first to break the silence. "So, how did you get this house anyway? It's beautiful!"

He quirked an eyebrow in response. "It is very beau, non? It's been in d' family for generations now. The LeBeau's have always lived here." His eyes caught with those of his nephew and he sighed sadly. Of course, Remy had been the only one out of the lot to have not grown up under its roof. "My great grand-pere bought it while d' area was still strugglin' after d' civil war, an' we've been here ever since."

"Remy's d' only LeBeau dat wasn't born here. Or at least brought here right after d' hospital. Dat doesn't change anythin' though – it's still as much his home as it is mine or Herni's."

Talia's eyes went big at that. Remy just snorted and gave him a look that clearly said he was digging his heels in further. Stubborn boy.

"Remy, y' can stop lookin' at me like a mule eyein' up a slope. Wasn't about t' chain y' t' the front gate or somethin'." Jean-Luc chuckled. "All dat I mean is dat y're always welcome here – whenever y' can come. Y're family."

They sipped their tea and he chatted a bit about the family's long history for a while. Setting his empty glass on the table he smiled at the two of them. "So now dat I've bored y' t' death, how about we get y' settled up in y're room? Y' can change or freshen up as y' want."

He took Talia's arm again, scooping her up from right under his nephew's nose, earning him an amused grin this time from Remy. "It's been a while since I've had such a pretty young guest t' entertain. Y'll indulge an old man?"

Talia blushed and looked to Remy, but took his arm willingly and let him escort her up to the wing that Remy's room was. Opening the door to the room across the hall from Remy's, he revealed a slightly smaller, but still richly furnished room, her bag already waiting for her on the bed. "Will this suit y'?"

"Wow. Yeah. This is very nice." Talia ran her fingers over the dark wood of a bureau. "Thanks."

"I'm sure y'll find it very comfortable. Of course, unless y'd rather sleep with Remy in his room."

He had the satisfaction of watching his nephew's eyebrows shoot up at that. Well – what did the boy expect? Wasn't like he would be preserving the girl's virtue by the look of things between them, and as if he expected Talia would stay in her room anyway. This way they just didn't have to sneak around and feel guilty.

Talia didn't hesitate, scooping up her bag, and smiling widely at him. "That sounds way better."

He just chuckled, and left them to get settled, cherishing Remy's parting look at him – a mix of bemusement and gratitude.

*****************

"I cannot believe your uncle is letting us sleep in the same room! This is going to be great!" He watched as she threw herself on the large four poster bed, sprawling along it.

He walked over and sat down beside her, running his fingertips along her arm, delighting in the slight shudder she gave. "Dieu, I missed y' chere. I'm happy that y' came. Merci."

"Of course I came. I was going nuts at school. I was worried about you." She sat up, wrapping him in a hug. "Are you ok? You've been a little quiet since we got here."

"Oui. Dis is just so different is all." He snorted. "An' my uncle seems t' think dat Remy's a lot more dan he is. D' man doesn't even know me an' he's already sayin' dat he owes me shit."

"Wellll…you are his nephew right? He keeps going on about your family a lot. It sounds like it means a lot to him."

"Oui, but dat doesn't mean dat Remy wants his charity. All he's gonna think dat I'm interested in is his money." He frowned, trying to put his thoughts into words. "Remy's never needed anyone t' look after him an' give him stuff. Can look after myself just fine."

She sighed, leaning back and pressing her hand to his cheek. It felt so good to have her with him again. "I know you can. And he won't. I think he just wants you to like him."

"But…" He shook his head, confused. "Like it or not chere, he is rich. An' people are gonna talk. Remy would like him just fine without d' money. It'd probabally be easier if he didn't have it."

"So? Let them talk. Fuck them." She pressed her lips to his for one sweet moment before backing off again. "I know what you are like, and you aren't that kind of man."

He ran his hand through her hair, and cupped the back of her head, drawing her near again. "An' just what kind of man am I den?"

"You have to ask?" she smiled seductively at him and kissed him, pushing him backwards on the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

It was at lunch the next day when school came up again. Remy had been half expecting it, having heard enough about his cousin's and his uncle's schooling to know that they placed a high value on education. Mercy had hauled Talia off somewhere to help her with the party preparations, and so that had left just the three men to linger over their coffees.

"So dis is y're first year at y're university, neh? Any ideas on a general direction y' want t' go in?" His uncle glanced up from the sheaf of papers that he'd hauled out and started running through the minute they'd finished their meals.

"Non, not really. Don't even know if dere is anythin' t' major in." His uncle and cousin both shot him a look of utter disbelief at that.

"How can y' not major in anything? What courses are y' takin'?" Henri asked.

Remy listed them off. "We also take dis sort of self defense class."

"Well, what are y' plannin' on doin' after y've graduated? What line of work are y' interested in?" Jean-Luc was completely ignoring his papers by now.

"Well, uh, haven't much thought of it." Remy shrugged. "Guess dat Remy was just thinkin' of doin' d' same thing he did before."

His uncle twisted his mouth up at that. "Well, didn't dey ask y' anything when y' applied? Y' never went an' talked with dem about that sort of thing?"

"Non." Remy shrugged. "Didn't apply – dey invited me. Thought dat it would be somethin' different – N'awleans wasn't d' same after Katrina went through. Didn't worry too much about why dey wanted me – thought dat it was some sorta outreach program or somethin'. As for gettin' in, guess dat bein' a freak was enough for dem."

"Don't call y'reself dat. Y're not – an' neither is y're girlfriend. How d' y' think she'd take y' sayin' dat?"

Remy felt himself flush in embarrassment. He hadn't meant it that way – he'd just meant to be dismissive of himself. Shrugging it off, he picked up his coffee. "Its just dat Remy hasn't thought about it much."

"Well…it sounds like at least dey are givin' y' a good base t' work off of, neh?" Henri chimed in. "Y' still have time t' think it over, and if y' can't get what y' want at y're school, den y' can always transfer."

He laughed at that. "Oh oui, Remy's sure dat dere will be a whole buncha places dat are willin' t' take a 'unique' person like him." He shook his head. "Not t' mention dat dis is d' first time dat Remy's even bothered with school."

"You've never been? Ever? Not even when y' were with y're parents?" Jean-Luc sighed and shook his head. "Never mind, of course not. Still – how did y' learn t' read an' stuff den?"

"Maman taught me a bit, learned d' rest myself." Remy shifted in his seat, wanting to escape. Dieu why did everything always come back to that? He hated thinking about his childhood, but it just kept coming up in conversation. Understandably, but still - all the talking in the world wasn't going to change it.

"Well, y're in school now anyways, an' y' can get what y' need from dat. We'll worry about tryin' t' work dat into transfers once y' figured out what y' want t' do." Jean-Luc laced his fingers. "Of course, d' better y' do in school d' easier dat will be. How are y' doin' so far?"

Remy grimaced. "What I did went ok, suppose. Not d' best at it, an' missed a couple of months of classes. Don't really get why it's so important anyway."

"What d' y' mean? Of course it's important. People don't take y' seriously no more unless y' got some letters after y're name." His uncle was clearly upset, and Remy found himself feeling sullen over it. "What d' y' mean y' just missed it?"

"Oh oui, like dey are gonna take a red eyed guy seriously anyway, neh? Dey are all gonna be linin' up t' hire Remy. Don't matter what Remy's got, paper ain't gonna change d' facts."

He jumped as his uncle's fist hit the table, making the cups jump and rattle. "So what? Y' gonna just keep y'reself from tryin' to achieve anythin'? A good education is d' best gift dat anyone can get! An' y' don't care about it? Y're just throwin' it away?"

"Look – it isn't like it would change anythin' anyway." Remy found himself half yelling at his uncle, Henri backing completely out of the conversation to watch the two of them glare at each other over the table. "It's not like Remy needs t' know dat kind of stuff anyway. What good is it gonna do!"

"Well for one y' might take some pride in it! Can't imagine dat y'd not care t' expand y're horizons a bit…y' want t' just stick in d' same rut y've been in all dese years? Have y' no desire t' accomplish somethin' in y're life?" His uncle was in a fine state by now, his blue eyes snapping.

He stood up suddenly, shoving his chair back. "Remy has accomplished stuff! Made it t' twenty. Dat's more den most d' kids on d' streets can claim." He turned and swept out of the room without a word.

***************

Jean-Luc sat frozen for a moment, feeling like an ass. The empty chair stood askew, silently accusing. Henri just looked at him as if he didn't know what to say. He'd pulled him and Mercy to the side and explained a bit of Remy's past to them to save Remy having to go through that again with them, but it was one thing to hear it objectively and another to face it.

But hearing those words tossed out just served to remind him again that he wasn't dealing with a typical unfocused young man. Remy wasn't his brother…a lazy lay about. He wouldn't be where he was in life otherwise.

"I was too hard on him wasn't I?" He asked Henri, laying his forehead in the palm of one hand.

"Maybe…but y' were right in tryin' t' get him t' realize dat he's got t' pay attention t' what he'd doin'. School's important papa."

"Oui, it is. But y' can't blame him for feelin' the way he does either, neh?" He sighed. "I'd better find him."

Pushing his own chair back, he took the time to tuck his and Remy's both in before heading down the hall. He asked a servant if he'd seen Remy and was pointed out to the back. It took him a while of wandering before he found the boy crouched down, with his back to a tree, smoking.

Remy barely glanced up at him, before looking back at the toe of his shoe that he was grinding into the lawn. "Shouldn't have said d' things dat I did." He took another drag, blowing it out slowly. "Y' were just tryin' t' help."

He crouched down beside him, heart aching for the quiet boy next to him. He sighed. No – Remy was no boy, despite of how he may feel. Hell – he still thought of Henri as a boy, and he was in his thirties. But his nephew hadn't been a boy for quite some time.

"I shouldn't have come down on y' so hard. Y've done well for y'reself. Y' could be on smack, or any other sort of thing. But y're not. I'm proud of y'."

That got his attention. Remy's eyes jerked up to his own, watching him cautiously before he took another long drag and looked away, studying a bush with an odd intensity. "Dere is enough other stuff dat Remy's done t' make up for dat. Nothin' much in my past t' be proud of."

"Y're scared aren't y'?" He watched the muscles in Remy's jaw jump at that. "Scared dat one of dese times y'll tell me somethin' an' I'll cast y' out. Like my pere did y're papa, neh?" He reached out to lay a hand on Remy's shoulder, half expecting it to be shrugged off. "Remy, y' are nothin' like y're pere. An' I am never gonna turn from y'."

Remy just curled into himself more as he talked. Damnit…he'd gone and screwed things up royally this time. How was he supposed to reach him? He didn't know how to fix this. His nephew had been through things that he was sure he couldn't even imagine, and yet he was saying that he'd unconditionally accept it? He wouldn't believe him either if he were in Remy's shoes.

"Can y' lend me a smoke?"

Remy's gaze returned to him at that, one eyebrow lifting in that familiar way. "Didn't know y' smoked."

"Non, I don't. Well, I don't now…quit about ten years ago. Those things will kill y'." he snorted at the look his nephew gave him at that. "Oh oui, I know…just pass one over will y'?"

Remy lit one for him, in that unique way of his, and lit another for himself. They smoked in silence for a bit, some of the tension slowly bleeding out of the long lanky body sitting alongside of him.

"So, how about y' tell me the worst things y've done an' we'll just get dat shit out of d' way." He laughed as Remy choked a bit on his smoke. "Well, what? Y'll 'ave nothin' t' lose by doin' it. If I'm gonna get upset an' toss y' out on y're ass, its best dat I do it now den later when we get t' like each other even more, neh?"

Remy blinked at him. "Suppose so. What d' y' want t' know?"

"Anythin' dat y're scared of tellin' me, I suppose." Jean-Luc leaned back against the tree, his shoulder rubbing up against Remy's. "Y' may be able t' shock me, but y' aren't gonna make me wanna let y' go. But y' ain't gonna believe dat till we do it, so – come on. Do y're worst."

Remy snorted in a mixture of amusement and disbelief, but thankfully he didn't pull away. "Well, for starters, Remy drinks a lot. An' smokes. An' not just cigarettes."

Ok…not so bad. "So y' smoke pot den? Anything stronger?"

"Well, Remy's tried other stuff once or twice, but pot an' booze are d' only things dat Remy's ever stuck with. An' watchin' Maman and Papa? Don't ever want t' end up dat way."

"Smart choice. Y' still have t' watch y're drinkin' and smokin' though, y' know. So what else?"

"Remy's careful. Just enjoyin' myself – not married t' it or nothin'." He shifted beside him. "Y' know dat Remy stole from y'…also stolen from a lot of d' places around here. Probably from a lot of y're friends too. Everythin' dat Remy has was either stole or bought from stuff dat was stolen."

"Oui, knew about d' stealin'. Not sayin' it's right, but can understand why y' did it. Dat's only part of d' reason dat I think y' should be payin' more attention in class though. Most of its just cause y' need t' take pride in what y' do. I know y're smart enough t' do it – try as y' will t' tell me no y're not. So what else?"

Remy snorted and gave him an odd look, but shrugged and kept on with it. "I've fought when I was a kid. Don't think dat I've ever killed anyone, but y' never know. Never meant t' at least. Just wanted dem t' leave me d' hell alone." Remy sighed. "But dunno. At d' least I've probably left some people with some bad injuries. Even fought once with one of d' guys from school."

"Y' fight for d' fun of it? Cause y' could?" Remy shook his head in reply. "Den y' did what y' needed t'." Jean-Luc finally extinguished the butt of his cigarette. "Dieu but dat's a guilty pleasure right dere. Mercy'll have my hide if she smells it on me. Y' watch dat woman, Remy – or she'll flush every smoke y' own before y' can say boo."

Remy snorted and flicked his own butt away, charging it so that it blew with a small pop to leave no residue.

"So – most of dat I knew…an' none of its all dat bad." He cocked his head. "Y' said y' missed out on a couple of months of school. Suppose we can add skippin' t' dat too, neh?" He regretted his words when Remy tensed up again, all the work he'd done to put him at ease dissipating.

"Well – dat was probably one of d' stupidest things dat Remy's done yet. Got myself into enough trouble, but even worse was dat I drug Talia down with it too."

Remy stopped for a long moment, almost to the point where he wondered if he was going to tell him at all, but then the words just tumbled out. "Stole from d' kids dat we live with at d' school. Was dumb things – not d' same as when I steal for money. Don't even know why really. Dey found out."

Remy started tearing at the blades of grass at his feet. "Well – dey found out – an' were all pissed. One of d' teachers pulled Remy aside, an' while was talkin' t' him, just decided dat it was best t' just leave. Didn't fit dere. So – dere was dis other group nearby. D' leader of it said dat people like Remy an' Talia - mutants dat look different, dat dey shouldn't have t' hide."

He took a deep breath. "He said dat we should fight for our place in d' world. So went t' Talia an' begged her t' come, even though she was doin' ok in school an' was happy dere. Just cause it would make me happy t' have her with me. Wasn't thinkin' of what was best for her – was thinkin' of what was Remy wanted."

"So d' school didn't kick y' out den? Y' chose t' leave?" He wanted to make sure that he understood this. "But y're back dere now, right?"

"Oui…we just came back a couple weeks ago. After d' fight."

"Fight?" Remy was refusing to even glance in his direction now. "Y' mean y' fought with someone at dis group?"

Remy sighed. "Non. D' thing with d' group is dat it was a place for everyone t' live an' work together…but dey also did stuff dat we didn't know about when we first got dere. Was a fool t' not see it though – everyone else was suspicious as hell of dem – but all could see was dat dey let y' do y're own thing, an' dat dey weren't ashamed of bein' mutants. Were willin' t' fight for it. D' problem was dey didn't care who dey hurt in makin' dere point. Talia was miserable as all hell dere, but kept tellin' her it would get better – we just had t' stick it out."

Remy grimaced again, tossing small pebbles to the side. " Stole stuff for dem at first – but dat was like helpin', cause it was medicines and stuff. But den…things just went downhill from dere. One of d' guys from d' school came an' blew up d' main house t' get back at dem for threatening one of d' girls at the school. Didn't know dey had done dat to her."

"So…what was dis group Remy? How did y' find out about it?" He itched for another smoke, but decided to leave it since Remy had abandoned his pack.

"D' leader spotted me one night – invited us along t' see about it." He shrugged. "Went, an' liked what he had t' say. Dey call demselves d' 'fringes'. Dey live up on a sort of farm up in N' York."

"An' dis boy dat blew d' house? Did y' fight him den?"

"Warren? Non. Jono – he's d' leader of d' fringes – he said dat dere was dis research facility dat was doin' all sorts of research into people like us. Stuff dat would hurt mutants. So we were supposed t' bomb it."

"What?" He quickly quelled his surprise, not wanting to shut Remy down again. "Sorry – go on."

"Well…we were supposed t' do it when dere wasn't many people around – so no one got hurt. At least no one dat wasn't already hurtin' people, y' know? But den d' people dat we were goin' t' school with showed up. An' dat's when things went all t' hell. Never thought dat I'd have t' fight any of dem – it didn't even cross my mind. But, dey showed, an' for a while believed dat was still doin' d' right thing by being dere with d' fringes."

Remy finally flicked his gaze his way for a minute. "Y' say dat Remy's smart? Here's y're proof dat he wasn't. Dere was enough explosives dere t' take out a lot more dan just the research buildin'. Caught a look at it after I'd been busy fightin' d' people who were just tryin' t' stop it. T' top it all off – Talia got hurt in d' fight – y' saw her cast. So did a lot of d' others - some of dem really bad. None of dat should have happened – it wouldn't have if Remy didn't drag her dere."

"Was anyone killed?"

"Non. Japh's bugs ate d' bomb before it could do anythin'. But den one of dem – Meanie – was killed. Don't know if t' count dat as an amputation or what." He found himself puzzling at that – bugs? But he decided to leave it for later.

"Sent Talia home with dem – couldn't look after her injuries myself, an' wasn't right t' ask her t' stay with me after all dat. But couldn't stay away neither – so came back an' snuck into d' school t' see her. Got caught by d' guy dat runs it – an' had a bit of a chat with him. So – still tryin' t' make up for it, though don't know if Remy can ever do dat…but guess dat we're back at d' school for a while. Was a blind fool, just wantin' t' make myself happy, instead of facin' up t' what I'd done. Been tryin' t' make it up t' everyone."

It was so much to take in, but ultimately it changed nothing. If anything, it just showed him how strong of a character his nephew did have. He had a conscience too – maybe not always making the right decisions, but pulling for the greater good in the end. "So dis teacher – dis man dat runs d' school, what did he say?"

"Well…suppose mainly dat it was a mistake – bad one sure enough, but it shouldn't keep me away. He explained more why he set up d' school. An' dat he wanted Remy t' come back an' stay dere."

"So he forgave y' den?"

Remy nodded, facing him again. "Oui, suppose dat he did. Still don't make any of what Remy did OK though."

"Non, it doesn't. But y're tryin' t' make it good, oui? Y' can't undo d' past – all y' can try t' do is fix what y've done wrong." He rubbed the spot between his brows, a small headache forming from trying to puzzle everything out. "Y' think dat dis man can forgive y', but I can't?"

Remy just looked at him contemplatively for a while. "Didn't think of it dat way."

"Well, y' best start Remy. Y' have no idea how stubborn dat I can be about family."

He got an honest smile in return, before Remy ducked his head again. "Oh…an' dere is just one other thing." Remy squirmed a bit away from him at that, reducing his body contact even further. "Talia's not my first girlfriend." He smiled a bit abashedly at that. "Actually, wouldn't call d' others girlfriends exactly…more like brief companions really."

Jean-Luc snorted at that. "So y're tellin' me y've slept around a bit?"

Remy actually blushed at that. No slight colouring, but a full on blush. Jean-Luc found himself intrigued. "So, more dan a bit I'm takin' it?"

Remy gave him a small twisted smile. "Oui, y' could say dat. Was careful about it, mind, but Remy's been with a lot of people." He seemed to stumble on the next part, before plowing ahead. "An' not just d' femmes either."

That was something that he didn't see coming. Somehow his nephew came off as the typical young heterosexual man to him. He tipped his head studying him for a minute. Yet, really, it wasn't that big of a deal right? He'd dealt with 'I may have killed a man' and 'I nearly blew up a building' so the fact he'd slept with…whoever…shouldn't matter right? It didn't change who Remy was.

"So y' done den? Anythin' else?" he couldn't help but sigh in relief when his nephew shook his head no. "Well, we made it though dat den. Suppose y're stuck with me, neh?"

Remy gave him a smile that he couldn't help but answer. Lord but this boy was exhausting. But he was worth it.


	9. Chapter 9

He and Talia were a little late to breakfast the next morning. Henri excused himself as they came in, leaving for work, and smiled at their bleary eyed appearance.

While they had spent a lot of time doing other…things - they'd also just spent a lot of time talking. He'd needed to talk about this whole situation, the things his uncle and he had spoken of, and all of the mess that went along with it. Somewhere around three they'd finally fallen asleep. While he didn't necessarily have all the answers, at least he felt a lot better about it after getting to talk to Talia about it.

Of course they hadn't wasted all their time talking. Which was how he managed to keep the smile on his face despite having only a few hours of sleep.

Despite the lateness of the morning, his uncle and Mercy were still in the dining room, sipping a coffee. Both of them elected to stay while he and Talia ate. Talia and Mercy started chattering on about the whole party, which he just tuned out. He couldn't understand why women would care that much about the colour of a napkin, or if the band should be beside the big oak, or up along the pool.

He was expecting to feel a bit of tension between him and his uncle after yesterday, but as he casually spoke of small things, sprawled comfortably in the large dining chair, he couldn't help but to relax himself. He was on his second cup of coffee, when Mercy piped up.

"Papa, I was talking with Talia yesterday, and it seems that neither her nor Remy were really packing with the fete in mind. I was thinking that I could take them shopping today."

Jean-Luc nodded. "Dat sounds like a good idea. I shoulda thought of dat sooner, but y' still have plenty of time. Why don't y' take dem t' Tessier's? Y' should be able t' find somethin' dere. Just put it on d' account."

"We're not goin' an' spendin' y're money." He cut in, looking from his uncle to Mercy and Talia. All of them were looking at him like he'd just said the most outrageous thing. "Y've already done enough for me. Don't need y' buyin' more shit."

Jean-Luc narrowed his eyes at him. "Is dere a reason dat y' fight me kickin' and screamin' every inch of d' way? I'm fine with y' comin' in what y're wearin' if you really want, but I'd think dat y' may feel a bit more comfortable in d' type of clothes that everyone will be wearin'."

Running his hands down the faded denim of his jeans, he sighed. He knew he wouldn't fit in wearing these, but it felt like he was using his uncle. Of course, the only alternative was to go steal something, an action that didn't sit as comfortably with him as it once did.

His uncle sighed. "Can y' just humor y're uncle just dis once? Go out an' let y're girlfriend pick up somethin' nice t' wear. Dis will be her first fais do do, an y' want her t' enjoy herself, neh?"

He gave his uncle a thin-lipped look, realizing he'd been backed into a corner. "OK, fine den. We'll go." Talia lit up like a Christmas tree at that and Mercy just smiled knowingly. Dieu, he was doomed from the start.

"Wonderful. Well, why don't you two go get ready and I'll meet you out at the car in half an hour?" Mercy stood up. "You'll love Tessier's."

**********

As it turned out Tessier's was pretty much the kind of place that he should have expected his uncle to frequent, but somehow you couldn't anticipate the sheer glitz of it. Mercy or Jean-Luc must have phoned ahead, because the employees that descended upon them the minute that they stepped through the doors didn't so much as take a second look at them before leading him and Talia into a comfortable private viewing area.

Talia looked like she died and went to heaven. Mercy and a couple of the sales ladies were chattering away with her about fabrics, styles and all that. He was just thankful that he had a cozy chair to sprawl in, a glass of wine on the side table beside him that someone had thoughtfully brought. He figured he was going to need it to survive the next while.

Then they all scattered, returning with in an amazing assortment of things as Mercy and Talia took up their own glasses and started to sip at them. He caught Talia's hand as she neared him and pulled her down on his lap. "Y' happy chere?"

She was still watching them bring in what he was sure was pretty much every dress that could be in the store, but she sagged into him, turning to press her lips to his. "It's fun. There are just so many of them! How am I going to choose one?"

"Y'll find somethin' easy enough, chere. Y'd make any of dem look good." He winced as a sales lady brought through a bright orange patterned dress. "Except dat. Dat one would give everyone a headache."

Mercy laughed. "I agree." She waved it off. "Well come on then. We've got a lot to start with here."

Talia gave him a parting kiss as she slid off his lap. She looked like a kid in a candy store as her and Mercy chose one, slipping behind a screen to put it on. After a moment, she came back out, the dress clinging wonderfully to each curve. He found perhaps he did have an interest in this if she was going to come out looking so impossibly sexy each time.

Mercy made some comment about 'darts' not working though and shoved Talia back in with another dress. He relaxed and watched the endless parade of dresses as he sipped his wine. Now this was his idea of shopping – getting to feast his eyes on Talia while sitting in a comfortable leather chair and drinking.

He was on what he figured was his fifth glass when Talia came out wearing this stunning gauzy beaded slip of a dress. It was a light pearly grey, light sheer layers of fabric reaching to just below her knee. Thin spaghetti straps left Talia's fine boned shoulders bare, accentuating the fine sweep of her neck. The bodice was gathers of fabric that all swept outwards from the point where the dip in the dress revealed her cleavage. And Dieu, that was some cleavage.

She trailed her fingers along the sparkling beaded waistline and smiled. "I love it! But it shows a LOT." She touched the neckline as she walked towards him. "What do you think?

Remy pulled his gaze upwards with an effort, grinning at her. "It's perfect. Y're gonna knock dem dead, chere."

He chuckled as he watched her and Mercy talk quickly about how she could do her hair and what sort of jewelry would look good with it, Mercy offering to lend her things. He stood up and stretched. "So we're good t' go den?"

Mercy gave him a look at that. "Oh no – we haven't even started on you."

He made a noise of dismissal. "Remy could just borrow somethin' of Henri's, neh? It's gotta be gettin' on to lunch time by now."

Talia frowned at him and crossed her arms, which did interesting things to her cleavage. Mercy walked up to him, taking his measure quickly.

"Non. That wouldn't work. You are taller than Henri, and not as broad. You'd look silly. We can have something brought in if you are hungry." She patted his cheek. "So just let us have our fun."

The salespeople cleared out the racks of dresses, Talia choosing to stay in the one she chose for now. He sighed as they started hauling in nearly as many suits as they had dresses.

"Dieu." He rubbed his forehead. "How about dat." He pointed to simple black pinstriped suit.

"OK, we can try that."

He threw the jacket on over his shirt, took a quick look in the mirror, rolling his eyes at how 'proper' he looked and then slid it off. "It fits. Let's go."

"Oh no you don't!" Talia grabbed his arm. "You have to try the whole thing on. With a real shirt. You don't just pick the first one Remy."

"Why not?" He looked at the two women, wearing nearly identical expressions and sighed again. "OK fine den. Give me d' damn shirt."

About an hour later, he was standing scowling at his reflection. He was dressed head to toe in a cream suit that was rather boxy. "Remy looks like dat guy from KFC."

Talia laughed at that, sitting smug with a fresh glass of wine to hand. He eyed her. It was a good thing that Mercy had gotten a bit of food brought in, as it would help cut the alcohol. Talia was definitely looking a bit flushed.

"Really, out of all of dese, dat first suit was d' best of d' lot. Can we just get dat?"

"Noooo. That one made you look too old." Talia stood up and sauntered over, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a very good view of down her top. "You need something more sexy."

Mercy nodded at that. "Oui, I agree. I think the problem was that we're trying to make you fit the mold, rather than choosing things that would suit you more." She tapped one finger against her lip. "I think we need something with a bit of flare. Maybe a bit of a sheen?"

Remy looked at her wide eyed. "Oh no…Remy's not wearin' nothin' all frilly."

Mercy just ignored him, and pulled a shirt and plain pair of pants off their hangers. "Try this."

He took the slippery shirt and pants and put them on. The shirt clung to his lean frame, and was surprisingly masculine despite being 'shiny'.

"Come out already!" He stepped out, grinning at the expression on Talia's face. "Oh that is more like it, baby. We found you a jacket too."

He took the simple black jacket and put it on, noticing that it fit much closer to him than the rest of the more business-like jackets had. Despite it being velvet it was still surprisingly cool. Not something he'd probably want to wear in the middle of the day, but at night it shouldn't be too bad. He had to admit it looked pretty damn good, even if it was satin and velvet. Dieu. What a peacock he was.

"Maybe we should get the shirt in a different colour though – all black just looks so somber." Mercy flipped through the same style of shirt, smiling as she found a deep rich blue one. "Perfect."

****************

They sat together, watching the shadows stretch out over the lawn, the air finally cooling around them. Remy kept the porch swinging gently with one foot, stroking the hair that was sprawled over his lap. He was tucked comfortably up along one end of it, Talia laying on her side across the main part of it, her head on his thigh. Her eyes were slitted in delight as his fingers teased at her scalp.

"This is just so…southern." Talia pressed her cheek into his leg, and squeezed his knee in affection. "It's like something out of a movie."

He chuckled, tickling gently at her ear with one long finger. "Oh, oui. Remy can see dat now. It'd be a blockbuster. Le Diable Blanc an' his Femme Bleu" He arched an eyebrow at her. "Though I suppose doin' a movie is in y're genetics."

She poked him hard in the side "I don't want to talk about him. And hello? French again?"

"The white devil an' his blue lady." He smoothed her hair back again. "It sounds like a movie title don't it?"

"Yeah – but who said you'd be the star?" She twisted so that she could face him. "Why do I get to just be your sidekick!"

He chuckled, and held his hands up in defeat. "Ok den, how about 'D' Divine Talia an' her Lowly Man-servant." He yelped as she pinched him hard.

"You're impossible." She huffed at him, flopping back onto her side.

He kept running his fingers through her hair for a bit, occasionally trailing them down her back. He was just content to lose himself in the moment, the last rays of sun setting the clouds afire, a slight breeze lightening the cloyingly heavy air around them.

"What are you thinking?" Her voice was muffled, drowsy sounding.

"Oh, I dunno chere. Bit of dis an dat. Just happy mostly, an' enjoyin' it." He was startled to realize just how content he actually was. A sense of peace and belonging had settled over him during these few days that he'd never guessed he could have.

"Its funny, neh? Came down here cause I thought dat I lost half of my family an' ended up wit' more dan I had before. If y' can even count my parents as family dat is." He shifted her head to a less numb part of his thigh. "It's been nice t' get t' know dem."

She sat up, turning to face him, grabbing one of his hands and holding it tightly. "I'm glad that you found them. Your uncle has been really cool."

"Oui, he's not too bad, neh? Though he's still givin' me shit about workin' harder at school. An' all dat is still a bit of a mess, neh? Guess dat I'll have t' figure out some way of makin' it work." He grinned at her. "My uncle gets in a fair state when he's got a bone t' pick."

"So do you." She traced one of his eyebrows with a finger tip. "He's a lot like you, you know? It's almost freaky some times. You'll both look at me with the same look or something – and God…it's so bizarre. It's too bad he didn't know you when you were younger."

He just shrugged, smiling softly. "Oui, suppose dat would be easier. But den I wouldn't have learned the shit dat I know. Maybe wouldn't have gone t' N'York an met y'. An' I wouldn't trade dat for anythin'."

She leaned in towards him. "You always know the right thing to say don't you?"

He chuckled. "I try chere. Dere somethin' I'm missin'? Any other things y' want whispered in y're ear?" He cupped her jaw in his hand, tracing his thumb along her bottom lip.

"Well – not words. There is something that you could do for me though."

"Well y' know me. Never one t' disappoint y'." He leaned down the last few inches and pressed his lips to hers.


	10. Chapter 10

Remy sat, watching the bustle. He'd come down to see if he could help Mercy, but she seemed to have everything under control, giving orders out like a drill sergeant to the throngs of people that had arrived, bearing everything from chairs to musical instruments. He was eager to do anything of use, to try and repay any of the kind things that they had already done for him, but here he sat, pretty much useless.

He grimaced realizing that the simple backyard fais do do that he'd been imagining was going to be a lot bigger than he thought. Merde – even if there were two chairs for every person they'd invited there was still going to be a hell of a lot more people at this thing than what he originally expected.

Shoving his glasses back up higher on his face as one of the caterers rushed past him, he couldn't help but to feel a rise of irritation. He'd gotten spoiled walking around the school, commune and now here without his glasses. He found that now it irked him more and more each time he had to don them. It was too bad that Jono had been such a crackpot. None of them should have to hide who they were.

Mercy spotted him sitting off in the corner and smiled at him, waving him over. Hoping that he could finally be of some use he walked over to her, dodging a lady carrying a rack of wine glasses.

"Oui? What can I do for y'?"

Mercy looped her arm in his. "You can keep me company for a while. This thing always gives me a headache. Not to mention nearly losing my voice." She looked around the patio. "Where's Talia?"

"She's havin' a bit of a nap…she wanted t' enjoy herself tonight an' we didn't get much…" He trailed off, a trifle embarrassed. "She's not used t' d' humidity. So y' want Remy t' shout for y'? Y' don't need any boxes or anythin' moved?"

She laughed. "There are already a dozen people working on moving stuff around, Remy. What we need to do is to keep it all happening."

"OK den…" she explained what she wanted to happen, leaving him to shout out the instructions. At first he felt very uncomfortable with commanding the groups of people around like he knew better than them what to do, but it became easier after a while. Soon enough, everything was set up as it should be, Mercy sighing in contentment.

"Perfect! Thank you for giving me a break there. Henri helps with these things when he can, but he and Papa had that meeting today." She released him and poured him a glass of water from the pitcher that had been left out for them all. "Here, you'll need this after all that."

He took a sip of the ice water, following her to the chairs where he was originally sitting. "So why d' y' do all dis anyway? Why all d' fuss?"

"Why? Well, for the fun of it partly. And also a bit because it is expected – everyone takes turns hosting these social events. We throw one this time every year. It's not like I don't enjoy helping organize it all – its just the 'day of' can get pretty insane. Talia was a big help this week though. I'm glad you convinced her to come down."

He plucked at the knee of his jeans, looking around at the yard. "Dere's going to be a lot of people here, neh? Lot more dan Remy thought."

"There should be probably around a hundred. Papa is very popular."

He frowned at that. A hundred? Even with all the chairs it hadn't seemed like it would be that many. All of them no doubt with more money than they knew what to do with. He rubbed his temples with one hand. Without a doubt he'd stolen from some of them. How the hell was he supposed to fit in with this crowd? And Talia – how would they react to her? He didn't want to expose her to anything unpleasant.

"Remy, what's the matter?" Mercy's gentle voice broke into his train of thought and he turned to her, looking at her wryly.

"Just don't know if dis is such a good idea no more. Wouldn't want t' embarrass y'all, and Talia – it's just." He snorted, raising one eyebrow. "How are all dese people gonna take us? A couple of nobodies from nowhere dat look like we do? Don't want Talia gettin' hurt."

"You're worried." She leaned forward looking at him seriously. "Remy, I thought that papa explained all this to you. No one's going to treat you or Talia poorly."

"Y' can't promise dat. People are gonna do what dey will. Y'all have been great – but most people don't just accept us like dat."

"Remy, I can promise you that." She looked at him seriously. "Papa won't tolerate anything against his family from anyone, and everyone that is coming tonight knows that. To top it off, he's been bragging for days now to everyone about you. So they all know what to expect – and no one will be surprised."

"What d' y' mean?" Remy looked at her suspiciously.

"What do I mean? Remy, you do know how powerful that papa is, right?" At his shrug she shook her head and sighed. "There are two families that basically control New Orleans. While it's nothing official, everyone knows that. The LeBeau's are one."

"So y're sayin' dat my uncle is a mob overlord?"

"Non!" She swatted at him, which he easily ducked. "Haven't y' been listening to a word papa has said? He doesn't rub people's noses in it, or lord it over them, but when he wants something, he just expects it to be done. It's as simple as that really. No one that is coming here will cross him, and therefore no one here will cross Henri, me or you. He's made it very clear to everyone that you are just as much a part of this family as we are." She grinned at him. "So the biggest thing you may have to worry about is keeping peoples' noses out of your ass."

"Well dat isn't a very lady thing t' say." He made a small snort of amusement at her wry look. "So y' don't think dat people will be rude den? Talia's not gonna feel bad?"

"Non. They won't. Besides which, you should see the way that you two look together, especially when you are relaxed. All you need to do is come out and act like you two normally do and you'll do just fine. You are more exotic than anything."

"Exotic?" Remy snorted. "Now dere's an interestin' way t' put it."

"I'm serious. It doesn't take long to just look beyond your differences." She sighed. "You are just going to have to trust me and Papa. And enjoy yourself. It will be fun."

He grinned at that. "Well, Remy's never been one t' pass up a party."

********************  
Sighing with relief as he hit the air-conditioned interior of the house, he was startled by his uncle's low chuckle.

"Hot one today, neh?"

Turning to find his uncle sitting in a chair to the far right of him, he grinned in response. "Oui. Guess dat Remy forgot what it was like down here a bit. Not used t' it no more. Though I'll take dis over snow any day."

"Y' and Mercy looked like y' had fun with each other." Jean-Luc got up from the chair he'd been sitting in that allowed him a view out to the backyard where they'd been working. "Y' like it here?"

"Oui. It's been nice stayin' with y'all…merci Nonc."

Jean-Luc beamed at the less formal term. He was glad that he could bring his uncle joy as well, though it seemed like all he had to do to make his uncle happy was to be happy himself. It was a unique relationship for him.

"Have y' thought of what y'll do dis summer?" his uncle was watching him carefully. "Made any plans yet?"

He shrugged. "Not really. Gonna be back here – kinda just fly by the seat of my pants, suppose. It'll work out."

"Y' mean go back t' d' streets?" His uncle asked with a frown.

"Well…suppose so. Maybe even try an' get a real job." He found himself feeling uncertain again. What did his uncle expect him to do?

"Would y' consider maybe livin' here? Not just for a visit I mean – but permanently?"

"Live here?" he shook his head. "Merci, but I ain't gonna sponge off of y' dat way. I'll come an' stop by fairly regular like. Visit y'all."

"Remy." His uncle put a hand on his shoulder, holding tightly. "Y' just don' get it do you? I don't want y' out on d' streets – or livin' in some hotel or somethin'. It ain't pity. It's cause I care about y'…an' what happens t' y'. I can't imagine leavin' y' t' live out dere like dat." He looked at him sadly. "It's y're own life, an' y' can choose what t' do with it – but…"

His shoulder was released suddenly, his uncle spinning to pace the room. "Maudit! I ain't gonna sit here an' tell y' its ok for y' t' go live in some alley somewhere." Jean-luc stopped and faced him with a look. "Cause its not. Y' have a home here Remy; y' have family. Please don' turn your back on us to salve your pride."

Damnit…why did his uncle have the ability to take what was a perfectly logical course of action, and turn it on its ear for him? "Remy can't jus' stay here an' not do anythin' t' help."

"I can understand dat. I'll find someway t' put y' to work, if y'll stay."

He thought about it. He knew Talia'd be busting his balls by now if she was present for this conversation. But how could he explain it? He never had needed anyone. He liked that independence – not to be beholden to anyone. Agreeing to stay almost seemed like a step backwards. But on the other hand – what prospects did he have on the streets? Even if he could get a job he doubted it would pay much. Barely enough to afford some crappy apartment and certainly not enough to support two people on.

"What d' y' want me t' do?"

His uncle looked relieved – probably because he was at least not rejecting it outright. "Well – I dunno. What sort of thing are y' interested in? What would y' like t' do?"

He pulled a face. "I'm not really qualified for much, less y' want me t' get y' somethin'." His uncle made a face. "Oui, so not that. Willin' t' learn though. Work hard at whatever y' ask…earn my keep."

Jean-Luc beamed at that. "Bein - agreed. Den y'll move in when schools done?"

He blinked. Wait…when did he agree to it? He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. His uncle wanted this so badly. It was apparent in every move the man made. On top of that, if he was honest – he wanted this too. He just didn't want to use him as his parents had done. So he wouldn't. "Deal."


End file.
